


Into The Lost

by Daedamnatus



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aromantic, Asexual Legolas, Asexuality Spectrum, BAMF Legolas, Blood and Gore, Combat, Elvish brutality, Erebor, F/M, Gen, Mirkwood, Mystery, Sea of Rhun, Wildlife
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-07-04
Packaged: 2018-03-22 08:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3722443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daedamnatus/pseuds/Daedamnatus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This Legolas is a Mirkwood elf: unwise, more dangerous than other elves. He is self-exiled but free of his decisions. When the threat of a war hangs over his land, he must make the hard choices, face his enemies and ally himself with others. A story of war with the Easterlings, a journey of Mirkwood elves, the quest of the son of Thranduil who seeks his place in Middle Earth. [Action/Adventure type of story. Much combat. Love between characters, but no romance.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Riding North

**Author's Note:**

> Events begin as canon to the BoFA movie. 
> 
> This is a story of justice, soul searching, selflessness... And a whole lot of action, crime, suspense and light politics. If you love Legolas but are NOT into mush, romance, drama, etc... this fanfic is for you. 
> 
> This is my first LotR fan fic and I never write fantasy. I'm more of a sci-fi geek. Also English is not my native tongue. I try to write as clearly and as simply as possible while respecting the genre. Reviews and criticism much appreciated, though!
> 
> I couldn't find the name of the horse Legolas rides in the Hobbit movies, so I had to make one up.
> 
> *This story is a pure invention and you might find inconsistencies with the books. I make no profit off this fan fiction. All recognizable names and characters are property of Tolkien and Peter Jackson.*

Riding north

 

The last of the eagles disappeared from the sky over Erebor and Legolas turned his steel eyes upward. His last goodbye to the battle he was leaving. It was desertion; from his duty as Prince of Mirkwood and as a son of King Thandruil. The enemy was defeated, at least, and the Lonely Mountain could fade in peace as he'd turn away. Jaw clenched, he steadily strode down a snowy path of stone and ice until he reached the valley below. The cold left his hands and ears tingling as the temperature rose, but still his heart and mind were in the dark frozen ruins of Erebor.

They would have to wait before seeing him again.

He had to head west, where the forest of Mirkwood lied on the horizon, serene, impassible to the turmoil that just occurred. The western wind brushed his face - a welcomed smell of wet soil from the lands ahead. But Legolas wasn't yet clear of the mountain. The remnant noises of the battle between the five armies still reached his ears: wounded soldiers calling for aid, battlefield commanders regrouping their survivors, horns sounding to announce a departure. Soon there would no longer be any elves outside the Woodland Realm.

Except him.

And Tauriel. Poor Tauriel.

Legolas slowed his pace, first to turn his attention backward once more, then because his chest tightened at the thought of the red-haired archer. His last glimpse of her, collapsed and unwell on a ledge, stayed with him as his heart beat hastened. He had done all he could to come to her aid, he had no remorse as he recounted each step of the combat. He'd made each arrow count. No doubt had she made the most of her abilities in order to-

A sudden sound of trotting footsteps cut short of his pondering and he spun on his heels, reaching back to grab the handle of a knife. Over the white hill, the pointy ears of Iefyr appeared and Legolas relaxed with a sigh, walking up to the horse with renewed calm as he softly touched his snout. He stopped again as he heard a second set of hooves following suit.

Tauriel was sternly mounted on her own brown horse and she held something small in her left hand. Her face was blank as if drained of all emotion.

"Tauriel," he said, not knowing how else to greet her. He unconsciously took a step back at her approach.

Coming to a halt, her clear but swollen eyes laid upon him before she spoke with a tight throat.

"My Lord Legolas," she replied, toneless.

His brow was lowered at the object she held and it was the black stone given to her by Kili, the dwarf killed by Bolg, before he directed his stare at her. How much she had changed, in such short lapse of time, upon meeting their prisoners and now burdened with the loss of love, and a tarnished honor. Legolas empathized with her sorrow, yet his hands were clenching into fists.

"It will be a long road north," he pressingly told her. "I must go it alone."

Misty brown eyes blinked at him and her pale lips parted to speak. Perhaps there was regret, or an apology being willed but locked behind shame or an excess of pride. She had been his impetuous Captain of the Guard. A swift, strong and passionate fighter in his army, sometimes so headstrong it pained him to look at her.

"Kili is getting a a proper burial underneath Erebor," she finally murmured. "My path leads to his kin in the Iron Hills, and I will honor his promise to his mother."

Legolas stood perplexed at her statement. Dwarven people only saw enemies of his kind, and no amount of tears would help Tauriel gain their sympathy. She would be judged as the murderer of their fallen hero and executed on sight.

Or, she would do what he knew she did best. Stun them with her disarming stubbornness and passion. His father had fallen for it. Legolas however, having known Tauriel as a child, knew that erring too close to her fiery temper only resulted in getting burnt.

Face lowered, eyes reverently closed, Legolas wished her all the respect she would require.

"A noble quest, my friend. Take heed of the eastern winds. Travel safe."

To those words he climbed upon his saddle and touched his right hand to his heart in farewell. Tauriel did not return the salute before he directed his horse towards the western valley, lying in a cloud of white fog. He would not look back to gaze upon her sad figure and only tightened his grip of the reins, knuckles white though barely steering. Why had she come to him? The eastern path was a more flat, kinder itinerary for her but she had to find and tell him of her plans.

The dwarf named Kili had taken a long time to say goodbye to her in Lake Town. He'd witnessed the whole scene, awaiting Tauriel as he'd taken the responsibility of salvaging her right as a soldier of the Woodland Realm. She had insisted in not heeding his warnings. She had taken the hard way down, dragging him, and many others along in the fall. Now, he was lost in his muddled mind, deserting his home, his father, his duty. If Tauriel wasn't to blame then he was as much at fault for letting his emotions impair his judgment. His teeth were numb from the tension. He no longer saw the shift in the clouds above as the blue sky turned to gray and soon, an impalpable fog surrounded him.

Would Tauriel attempt to follow him if she lost his trace?

The air thickened, his lungs worked to fill and empty and he had to squint his eyes to see ahead. Fading trees of various nature grew dense until he found himself in what looked like ancient woods, branches naked of leaves ravaged by an old fire. Each of Iefyr's hooves landed in soft dirt, the only sound he heard within miles.

What if he had let her fight Bolg alone? What if the elven sword Orcrist had never found its way into the hands of the dwarf king Thorin?

Iefyr slowed to a halt and blew its nostrils. It felt lost and Legolas whispered a few reassuring words, patting its neck, distracted. The animal was sensing his confusion and it translated in its behavior. Coming back to his senses, Legolas climbed down and held the bridle, leading Iefyr on foot but he resisted, protesting noisily.

"Shh," Legolas whispered, but soon tempered his impatience. "This was a beautiful forest once, but the late Smaug turned it into this graveyard. The trees are dead and so is all life. You needn't worry."

Still the horse pulled back on the reins and began trotting backwards, its eyes riveted on Legolas with a rare determination.

The smell of danger crept up on him, too, but it was too late. The wet pitter-patter only sounded as they were raised up from the muddy ground, wet as they lifted intermittently. He heard the breath of the wolf and slowly eased on the bridle. Legolas made as little movement as he could to give a look behind him. The predator was smaller than he expected, but still an adult canine of white and silver coat.

Its brown eyes had a golden shine to them. Even though its fur was thick for the cold season, he could still guess its ribs showing through. It had probably not eaten in many days. It stalked between the trees and tentatively came closer, unafraid. As it came into view, Legolas, still motionless, could see more details of the wolf. Dark, grimy patches of dried blood stained its neck. It looked like it had survived a trap or an attack.

Had he carried arrows, Legolas would have shot the beast if it showed sign of aggression, but it kept its head low, a mere twenty paces away, set on meeting the elf.

There were many wolf packs in Mirkwood and Legolas had hunted a few that came too close to his home, scaring the horses and children. Most of the predators were in turn hunted and captured by goblins, to be used as mounts after being broken and tortured into submission.

Iefyr protested and stepped back as the predator was now upon them.

"What happened to you?" Legolas asked the creature as it moved close enough for him to reach down and pat its head. Ears folded backwards as he gently placed his hand upon the gray, humid fur. It whined, seeming distressed and out of breath. Parting the fur, he saw the wound at its collar had shorn hair in places, and blood was clotting in spots. A choke collar had been torn off. It insisted in staying close to Legolas, and he felt the creature's warmth against his shins. It whined again.

"I'm so sorry for your pain," he whispered back, feeling his own eyes catching mist. He came to a crouch and stroked the wolf's back until it soothed. He frowned as he could feel its spine.

Such a weakened creature couldn't survive for long on its own. And Legolas had no means to feed it, or heal it. A mercy killing was in order even if it broke his heart. Reaching up for one of his knives, he stopped in his motion as the wolf's ears straightened, head raised at attention towards the north. Then it bolted away at full speed.

Iefyr snorted and nervously trotted in his back. Voices could be heard, loud and crude.

"I told you to check on the locks this morning!" shouted an orc. "But no. Snacking on human rind for hours was too important. Good luck finding another wolf bait around here."

"Ahh... Shut up!" replied a goblin. "I will find this mutt and carve her pelt off while she still wiggles."

Legolas sent Iefyr away from sight and used his limber arms to pull himself up into the nearest tree. The orc was large and heavy, holding a morning star across his shoulder while the goblin walked hastily at his side. They were looking in all directions for the wolf.

"The tracks stop here," said the goblin, leaning over the spot where Legolas stood mere moments ago. "Bones of elves! Horse prints... and boots!"

They both roared in rage before following the tracks up to the foot of the tree. Slowly, they craned their necks to look up. Supporting his own weight upon a branch, Legolas returned to them a sneering gaze before releasing himself on top of them, knives extended as he jumped. The orc was first to scream in anger though his throat was severed and black blood spilled out. He grasped at his neck, trying to stop the bleeding and Legolas dodged the swing of the goblin's axe, kicking it off into the brambles nearby.

"Rotten elf!" It spat before curling onto himself and he sprung from his short legs to leap onto Legolas, screaming and biting ferociously at his bracers.

Legolas cringed as he felt a pinch on his left hand, but knocked the creature against the tree to release his arm. It held on, digging its foul teeth into his flesh. Once again, Legolas, forcefully pushed the goblin's head against the tough trunk, then plunged his other knife into its belly. Guts spilled as he pulled out his blade. The screams of agony filled the grim woods. Dropped to the ground, the goblin held his midsection with panic and horror, yellow eyes bulging out of their orbits at the realization that he was going to die soon.

Standing over his victim, Legolas heaved in utter scorn, flaring his nostrils as he smelled the vile stench.

"Tell me where is your camp," he muttered, knife pointed at the goblin's face, "and I won't let you suffer."

The wretched thing coughed and spat out blood, speaking with difficulty. Yellow eyes pleaded for mercy.

"We have done nothing to you, elf! We stayed out of your forest. So stay out of our land!"

Crunching his face with despise, Legolas pressed his foot into the gutted belly, mashing the intestines and something spilled out as well as cries of anguish, almost causing him to hurl in disgust.

"Please! Stop!... Just go north! Past the swamp in the ashen graveyard..." He coughed and hissed. "Now kill me, elf."

But Legolas planned to do nothing that would ease the goblin's pain. He bent to his level and sneered at him with anger.

"Why would I let you command me? Worthless filth. I would let you rot here for the crows to feast upon your entrails."

He left the scene of gore with the pitiful moans of the goblin behind him. Iefyr reappeared later on, having taken a detour to avoid the enemy. Legolas cleaned his blades as his step grew more cautious, landing on deeper mud. His left hands had the semi-circled marks of the goblin's tiny but sharp teeth, and dark blood was escaping from his skin. Using a section of his green tunic, Legolas wrapped his left hand and winced as it stung. There was no medicinal herb to be seen around to make a cleaning salve. If infected, he would have to treat the wound in a different, more aggressive way. Anger did not leave him until he was faced with another problem.

The swamp spread across the clearing and he found no way of walking around it unless he cut through the thick of the woods. A white fog covered the black pond, and no birds or insects could be heard.

"Iefyr, my friend," Legolas began saying, voice breathy, and still holding the horse's bridle. He stopped and looked at the horse, straight in the eye. "My path may lead you to more danger than is necessary." Swallowing painfully, Legolas couldn't rid himself of the cold pain in his throat, but he kept his face stern and strong for his friend. Iefyr seemed to calm down and grunted once, listening. "Go home. Find safety, and don't try to look for me."

He'd lost too many friends in battle, creatures of pure goodness, selfless to a fault. War had excused so much grief, sorrow he never allowed himself to feel for the sake of his people. Iefyr bumped its snout against his chest, stepping forward to press a last goodbye. Smiling sadly, Legolas held his forehead against his and patted his neck as he turned around.

Yet another farewell for that day. Once truly alone, Legolas took a deep breath of damp, cold air. No more farewells.

It felt like night time but he was sure midday still hadn't passed. The oppressing atmosphere of the lifeless swamp made his step slow and uneasy, he who usually strode agile and fast. It was despair, he told himself. With Smaug now gone the desolation still remained. How many years until the forest would regrow and thrive again? A century, millennia perhaps. One life seemed worthless in comparison.

The orc camp produced sounds of clatter, roars, and smells of burning metal, meat, and feces. Branches fashioned into defensive spikes boarded the fence. Here and there hung bloody skeletons and skulls served as dissuasive decoration. Legolas had seen rivers grow and deserts turn into valley in his lifetime. Hope wasn't lost, he would make sure of it.


	2. Crossroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When freedom becomes a choice. And the choice is no longer an option.

Crossroad

The extent of the Mirkwood elves' watch over Erebor was limited. In fact, it barely reached passed Dale or the Halls of Thranduil. Whatever lied beyond the mountains didn't affect the Woodland Realm for as long as it showed no ill intent towards the elves.

The spiders were growing stronger in number and tenacity. Tauriel had noticed it. Whatever agitated the giant arachnids surely had a pull throughout the dead valley.

As he surveyed the orcish camp site, Legolas had counted many worker goblins. Weaponsmiths, lumberjacks, butchers. The orcs fed and rested around the tents and makeshift shelters, scattered bones and carcasses as evidence of their lingering settlement. They had escaped the battle, Legolas deduced from their armor and wounds.

Safely watching from the top of a hill, prone and between the roots of an old, withered oak, he memorized each lodging and guard station. They had four archers, warriors with scimitars and goblins favored the use of axes. One goblin had a whip tied to his belt. He dragged a heavy chain behind his limping form and entered one of the tents. Cages were stacked there but Legolas couldn't see what they held. Suddenly, growls rose and were replied with a crack of the whip, followed by the thunder of the chain on the cage bars. It then sounded like a dog whining painfully.

He bit the inside of his cheeks, diverting his eyes to another part of the camp, only to see another chain - short, this one - tied to a post. It ended with an open metal collar left upon the ground. The left hand that held the root nearest his face made, an involuntary twitch. Legolas realized that he needed to tend to his injury. Home. He needed to be home and find all the medicinal attention required. He could fill his quiver and stomach, and even rest a while.

But home meant submitting to his father after his promise of not returning. It was foolish pride, Legolas knew it as he made his way around the camp, keeping his distances. He'd make peace with his decision once he'd find more hospitable grounds. For now, he was on his own and stalking an enemy that stood in his path. Thousands of years of experience hadn't made him bold enough to take them on unprepared. His troops weren't there for support and his father wouldn't send for reinforcements if he got overpowered.

Veering away from the sounds and smells of hostile activity, an unexpected road met his trek. The paving stones shone under the clouded sun. It was one of the dwarf roads, one that lead north towards the Gray Mountains. The orcs and goblins had surely followed it to escape Erebor. To his left, Legolas saw the decline of the pavement as it extended far across the woods. And, turning his gaze to his right, there was nothing but mist filling the shadows.

Onward to the north, he told himself. The forest thickened and the mist dispersed. He heard the chirp of birds and call of crows as he walked beneath the tall trees. They fluttered their leaves in the wind and gone was the oppressive atmosphere. Legolas still breathed tense, clinging to the gloom of his state of mind. The road turned and the air transported the smell of roasted meat coming from the orc camp. Suddenly, a familiar battle horn sounded and shouts rose.

Legolas would have rallied to the call any other day. Now his first instinct made him need to flee and hide.

The clinking of swords were unmistakeably the sign of an attack on the camp. More screams escaped from it. Mere minutes passed before it all ended, then the horn sounded again. In that kind of timing, the troops had successfully overrun the orc camp and were ready to leave. Even after losing most of their numbers in the battlefield of Dale, Woodland elves could easily hold their own against two dozen unfit orcs and goblins.

Whatever the reason for their presence there, Legolas wanted no business with his kin. They wouldn't understand his decision.

He witnessed the aftermath of the attack once the elven soldiers had gone. Pools of dark blood stained the earth, all bodies were gathered in a pile and burning at the center of the improvised village. The bitter stench filled his lungs. Legolas first went into the largest tent and found black splattered on the leathers and furs, it covered a chest that contained fabric and a tanned pack. A long cloak, he discovered, made of heavy linen, a dark enough shade of gray to disappear in the shadows. The pack contained dried meat sticks, a lantern, maps of Emyn Engrin to the east. The one elf that could have used such a map had left hours ago, Legolas furrowed his brow at the thought of Tauriel. It no longer hurt to think of her, now standing among death and butchery, remembering clearly now that the rift between them had always existed.

After donning the cloak, Legolas slung the pack in his back and proceeded to salvage whatever was in working condition. He gathered a few good arrows left by his brothers in arms, their tips sharper and shafts lighters than that of orcs. The armory tent kept more weapons and he could see with bitter disappointment that anything made by elves had been taken away. He searched for a viable blade, something light enough to allow for a long journey on foot. Orcrist, the sword he first knew from his former home of Gondolin, was of ideal shape and balance and, while he was more keen on using knives, he missed the ancient sword dearly.

He settled for a man-made short sword, hilt slightly damaged at the pummel but the blade was newly sharpened. The marks indicated that it had seen old battles, and could withstand even more.

Deciding that he'd had enough of the foul smells, Legolas walked across the camp carrying his new equipment, unrecognizable beneath the dark hood. He passed in front of the last tent and the cages, now silent as the four black and gray wolves that occupied them were dead, killed during the assault. Their lifeless brown eyes were still open, jaws parted in one last cry of despair. The goblins must have known that, once freed, the angered animals would instantly turn on them.

He was made aware of an impalpable pressure around him as he was gazing at the massacre. Footsteps lightly approached at a distance, closing in. Legolas slowed his breath to a stop. It was now in range of his shooting. Spinning around, his bowstring pulled to the ear, he aimed the elven arrow straight at his target.

"We put down a few more of these rabid creatures on our way here," said Luthias. The black-haired elf approached with confidence, cape flowing above the mud and grime as his armored boots short the length between him and Legolas. "None would wish ill upon whoever stumbled upon a pack of ravenous wolves. I think they were under some sort of spell."

Legolas replied in a commanding tone. "Why are you not with your company, Sergeant?"

Bow lowered, he quivered his arrow and proceeded out of the tent, walking passed his old friend whose face showed gravitas, yet he pressed on after him.

"It's Captain of the Guard now, Lord Legolas. And I could ask the same of you."

Cocking an eyebrow, he stopped to look at Luthias. Younger of a few hundred years and shorter by a head length, Luthias Morthillion of Mirkwood was one of the best close-combat artists. He and Legolas had sparred countless times. His skills were matched by few, hindered only by his recklessness in the heat of battle. Perhaps Thranduil had deemed wise enough to place Luthias in Tauriel's stead, to command and ensure the safety of his fellow soldiers.

"I'm glad," Legolas told him. "I have no doubt you are more than fit for your new title."

He felt exposed, vulnerable even while facing one individual. Luthias put on a stern look as he walked by his side, leading out of the clearing.

"News of your exile traveled fast," he spoke, half-voiced. "While I disapprove of it, I understand your decision. But what of Tauriel? I thought you would be with her..."

"I am not," snapped back Legolas, stretching his lips to a flat smile. "Her path leads to a different fate. My own mission doesn't concern anyone else."

His throat locked, dry and irritated by the fumes of the grim pyre nearby. Legolas swallowed deliberately, and threw his hood back before he continued.

"Tauriel betrayed our king, Luthias. Despite all he had done for her; made her a captain, overlooked her flaws, and tolerated her insubordination. She sealed her fate the moment she turned her back on her people."

"But surely there had to be a good reason," Luthias inquired. "I'm trying to understand what my predecessor went through. She must have known something we didn't."

Looking down, the dark-eyed elf noticed a left hand bandaged in blood-stained green fabric, still holding the bow.

"The only secret that motivated her was the storm in her heart," Legolas answered, placing the bow across his back. "You know Tauriel as well as I do. She is young. Wisdom was never her strong suit."

"Yet, you followed her, my Lord."

Studying him, Legolas kept his mouth shut, wishing he could remain silent and leave the younger elf wondering. His own mind was raging with a cascade of conflicting explanations. He needed to pick one carefully.

"I don't claim to be wiser... But I couldn't stand by and watch a trusted friend throw herself at certain death."

"And the dwarf that she was pining for?" added Luthias, his scornful expression completing his suggestive question.

Kili. Legolas had known of their feelings, sensed the intensity of Tauriel's devotion as she'd chased after him, destroying all in her path. He'd helped her protect the dwarves, if only to make her task bearable and spare her from an accident.

"I did not care for him the way she did," he pensively said. "But if he were still living, I would be content in knowing of her happiness, however strange their relation might have been."

Luthias bit his lips, retaining a comment, then turned his head to keep a watchful eye around them.

"This place is still reeking of evil, I wish you'd chosen to return to Mirkwood before setting off for your next task, my Lord."

There was movement that Legolas perceived in the corner of his eye. To his left, something came out of hiding between bramble bushes and the sound of a sword unsheathing brought his attention back on Luthias.

"Those pests still roam," muttered the new Captain of the Guard. "Looking to feast on the dead."

The wounded wolf lowered its snout but the golden eyes were riveted on the one who'd pulled out their weapon. It growled menacingly, white fangs exposed.

"Put away your sword, my friend. This one wolf came to me for aid, not later than this morning. I believe it was taken from its pack to be used as bait."

Luthias reluctantly complied, never letting the canine out of his sight. Its stare softened and it stood still a moment before returning into the shadows.

"I see that your compassion knows no bounds, but nature is not so kind. Remember the spiders that attack our realm each day, a realm that you decided was no longer your own... Have you nurtured feelings for them, too?"

He formed fists beneath his cloak but Legolas only winced at the pain in his left hand.

"I would have you eat your own tongue for your insolence, Luthias, son of Morthil," he spat. "Do no confuse me with some lowly traitor, vexed by her king for not indulging her whims."

His cold, hard stare bore into the unmarked face of the other elf. His presence there was a mistake. Legolas had only but one remorse: lingering too long upon the sight of the dead animals. But if meeting Luthias was inevitable, he had to make the best of the encounter.

"Return to your company and tell King Thranduil that you did find me on the northern road. My mission may take longer than expected, but rest assured that I will keep the interests of my people in mind at all times."

The stern look on Luthias's face shifted and his brow raised, letting sadness take over.

"Your absence will leave a dent in our morale, Legolas. More than our Prince, you are our leader, our brother, and we look up to you."

Legolas unclenched his jaw and let out a sigh. This much emotion was all he allowed to transpire in his demeanor. Recovering his hard exterior, he placed his right, unscathed hand upon his friend's shoulder and focused his eyes.

"Do not fear, Luthias. I have faith you'll keep them safe and strong for the time to come."

Challenging his gaze, Luthias nodded sharply and they ended their exchange with a hand-to-elbow clasp of arms. Legolas patted his back as he moved on, taking leave of his friend, never to turn back.

"Legolas!"

He froze in place, rolling his blue eyes at the clouds before looking back. Luthias ran towards him and detached a pouch from his belt, his face still strained with concern.

"Athelas leaves," he said, placing the packet in his extended hand. "They may not grow where you're headed."

He'd promised himself not to say farewell again that day. Legolas kept his stoic attitude and thanked Luthias, sending him back on the road after his troops.

The forest darkened and he had to hasten if he wanted to find shelter for the night. The goblins and orcs could return at the camp and track him down, once finding the place sacked by his kin. There would be consequences, he was sure of it, and they would wage war against the Woodland elves. The army of Gundabad was likely spent after the great battle in Dale and Erebor, but Legolas was not sure another one would be marching south again.

It had begun with the death of his mother. It seemed it wouldn't end before he'd taken the matter in hand eventually. Tauriel was right, in a way, that his father needed to open his eyes to the world outside Mirkwood. The Woodland forces, through their inaction, could well be responsible for the destruction of all neighboring civilizations.

Rain began to drip and fall. Legolas took the undergrowth to protect himself from the downpour which didn't slow his pace. The outer rim of the woods was in view, letting the last of daylight shine through the trees ahead. But what he thought was a larger oak was in reality a small cabin made of crude planks. It had a single broken window, an unlit chimney and even a small shrubbery around it.

Legolas investigated the site, shielded from the rain under his hood he appeared as a lone ranger, only those who'd see his ears and long silken hair would identify him as an elf. The door had been busted open, its lock was shattered, leaving splinters on the damaged door frame. A pool of blood marked the door step, dragging motion had spread it outwards as the body was removed.

Venturing inside, he found a space made and furnished for one man to live and sleep. There was a water well, a bed, a cooking area, and a closet full of collected trinkets, insects, bird and squirrel skeletons. The cupboards had plates and cup alongside hard bread, pickled fruits and vegetables, dry and salted meats. This was miles from the level of comfort of his regal home, but for one night he was grateful that one person had gone through lengths to build that place. That person was surely dead now, and if someone else had taken it as their home, it didn't care to fix the door or repair the window.

Legolas pulled up a bucket of water and spilled it on the blood stain. Using a broom that stood next to the bed, he started sweeping the floor, work he'd usually leave to his servants. When the color had faded and the smell washed away outside, he closed the door and lit up the chimney to drive out the humidity. Whoever would attempt to sneak up on him would have to taste of his arrows. He picked up the flint and tinder and cracked sparkles into the wood which slowly caught fire. As he waited for it to grow, sitting on a simple wooden chair, he let his shoulders sink and his feelings dragged him into a gloomy realization.

He was lost in the eyes of his people. The face of his father had been too much of a sore sight to bear when they parted. Even if Legolas was fairing fine on his own, causing pain to those close to him was never his intention. He felt selfish in his behavior, following an excuse not to face his responsibilities. Going to the Dunedains to find an unknown ranger? He'd heard more enticing mysteries from children's tales. Perhaps it was an convenient lie, or a riddle that came to his father in a dream.

Rain was falling harder on the frail roof, making it difficult to hear intruders if they lurked. Legolas pulled the opaque curtains in front of the window, then checked the door. Swinging it open, he caught a pair of shining, reflecting golden eyes. His augmented vision in the night allowed him to see the wolf as it waited, watched him. She whimpered a high-pitched whine. Lips pinched, Legolas opened the door further and the dark, wet animal quickly trotted across the clearing and entered the cabin. It was as high as his waist and long as his bow.

"This isn't the first time someone has offered you shelter," Legolas remarked.

He was greeted with a shower of vile-smelling water as the wolf shook her coat, spraying in all directions. Laughing, Legolas raised his hands to protect his face and hair. He used a bed cover to dry the wolf, by the fire. She let him rub the fabric along her back and belly, and nestled her face in the blanket. At the light of a lantern, Legolas inspected her neck and saw that spikes had poked her skin so deeply that the wounds had grown infected with rust. She jumped and growled.

"Calm down," he firmly retorted. "You will heal, but only once you've let me take care of you."

He didn't know if the wolf would understand, but he hoped it wouldn't try to take a bite at him without warning. He rose and opened the pouch of athelas given to him by Luthias. There was so little at his disposal. He would have to share between him and wolf. Using a bowl and the heat of the fireplace, he made a concoction with a bit of oil which he rubbed around his left palm. The rest, he used in a thick paste to rub into the animal's neck.

"Stay still," he commanded. "Be good and you will be rewarded."

Her ears sprung up, eyes clear, at the prospect. No, this was no ordinary wolf. A mixed race, for certain. Brow lowered with concentration, Legolas knelt and recited the ritual chant of healing in Sindarin, while stirring the paste in the bowl. As if entertained by his promise, the canine lied still as he spread the medicinal paste around her neck, insisting on the open wounds. She licked her front paws and his hands in the process, soothing herself and curiously smelling the contents of the bowl. When he was done, Legolas stood and she stalked each of his movements, panting happily. He reached within a cupboard and picked up a salted venison leg. Using his knife to cut a few pieces, he felt observed and pressed on as the wolf moaned impatiently for the food.

It gobbled up the pieces in mere seconds, and soon enough a third of the meat was gone. He pulled up a second bucket of water and had a full bowl next to the bed for the dog to drink from. Because it was some kind of dog. Domesticated animals were not customary of elves. Animals had their lifestyles, their realm and their freedom. Those that weren't fit for the wilderness simply died for the benefit of other species. Perhaps that dog had been a wolf, once. A wolf that found itself unfit to live among her kin, and tentatively approached the two-legged kind for company. But it was a cruel world and one weak, confused individual had to face its sorry fate.

Legolas watched the dog sleep soundly in the dancing light of the hearth, its ragged fur taking a soft aspect as it dried. Sitting in the rustic chair, he dozed off into a dream. He'd hear the last words of Thranduil about his mother, about love. And he imagined seeing her face again surrounded by the bright light of morning. Then he felt the biting cold of the snowy winds of Erebor, but nothing as bad as the hits he'd taken as he battled Bolg, the giant orc leader. He'd tasted his own blood and came face-to-face with death more than once. He was jolted out of sleep every time he remembered being knocked against a wall, punched or kicked. His last dream was a mixture of old and recent memories, and Tauriel's bitter words echoed in his head. Are we not part of this world? She had had the dwarf in mind when speaking, but to Legolas it resonated with his recent experience.

He used clean linen to bandage his hand. It was early morning and the sun still hadn't risen. The wolf, that Legolas decided should remain nameless, waited in front of the door, breathing loudly and directed her gaze at him. He cracked the door open and followed her outside. The sky was clear at last, and stars shone brightly. His hand no longer hurt thanks to the athelas oil. When the dog returned to him in mere minutes, he bent down to look at her neck. The wounds were now red spots and there was no more of the putrid smell.

She would be fine, and he wished that she would return to her kin. It made him think of Tauriel. Had she not thought of her actions when she ran from her duty, leaving Mirkwood vulnerable to the increasing number of spider attacks? Had she intended in manipulating him to help her, irresponsibly depriving their soldiers from his leadership?

Back inside the house, Legolas cussed between his teeth and gathered his weapons before picking up his cloak. The extra food was stored in his backpack and he killed the fire. The strange mission to the north could wait, for he had a more important task. The wolf followed him when he walked out, and headed down the long road south.

South to Dol Guldur.


	3. Motive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas returns to Dale.

**Motive**

Sunlight made his cloak warmer than he liked although the hood offered sufficient shade over his face. Legolas kept a steady pace that circled the north-eastern side of the Lonely Mountain, ran down a few snow-covered rolling hills and ended at Dale.

With the ruined city in view on the horizon, he made a short stop at a rocky flank of a crumbled mountain side. It offered plenty of cover. He pulled his pack upon his lap and began picking at some of the dried berries he'd salvaged from the wood cabin. The sweetness offered light comfort and his spirits raised at the sight of pointy gray ears and black nose. The wolf sat on her hind legs and waited for a snack. Legolas had grown accustomed to her presence, though she was free to roam and hunt. He'd caught himself looking around for her when her absence had been long.

She chewed on a piece of dried meat while he took deep, slow breaths, checking the state of his bite mark. The bleeding had stopped but it was still painful when he clutched at his bow or knife. Having walked many miles now in the snow, he had to hope to get to the lake soon enough to find more athelas, or king's foil as men called it. The wolf would have to keep her distances. It didn't matter that she was friendly to him, anyone else would only see a wild, hungry predator and she would get maimed or killed. Legolas didn't see himself picking a fight with people in order to protect a stray dog.

He closed his pack and slung it over his shoulder, standing. The wolf rose up on her legs and looked at him on the ready.

"You can't stay with me from here," told Legolas, using a voice one would have while speaking to a child. "Bad things may happen to you. You will be safe in the forests."

She tilted her attentive head to one side, stealing a chuckle from him. Legolas patted her head, sadly regretting his gesture. Too much familiarity with non-animals wasn't good for a wild animal, but he'd started taking care of her and now he had to accept her companionship. It was the basics of consequence and responsibility. There was no turning back from them.

He proceeded down the road. Dale was minutes away, he could count the towers and even the stones that broke off the walls of the city during battle. Ogres must have done that kind of work. His heart began to race as he saw black figures moving and he wasn't sure if they were men or orcs. There were lances. There were scimitars. Had they not been warned that their battle was lost?

An elvish swear word escaped his lips. Out in the open, he was an easy target for the maddened beasts headed his direction. They looked ravenous, almost scared as they tumbled over the ruins of the wall. A few fell face forward with arrows in their backs, but most had run fast enough to get out of range.

Legolas readied his bow and shot his orc arrows first. His left hand stung but he focused his mind ahead, overcoming the pain. He hit the targets and they gargled up screams before touching ground. Paces away, he was charged by three medium-sized orcs. They swung scimitars and axes at him. Legolas shot another arrow, almost point-blank into an orc's face. He awkwardly knocked his head back and one ugly, deformed hand tried to pull at the black arrow, failing miserably in cries of agony. In a fluid motion Legolas rolled forward, exchanged his bow for his knives and severed the hamstring tendons on two other orcs who tried to take him as a duo. They fell in turn, one on top of the other, and began struggling to get up in panic.

The last one still ran at him, dual-wielding an axe and a sword. Legolas flung his knives back and pulled out the sword from his belt, spun it once to find its balance point and parried. He spun backward to avoid the deadly fall of the axe, feeling the gut-wrenching breath upon his face, letting the scimitar slide off his blade to make the orc lose his stance. Legolas had access to his back and he slashed the spinal cord, sending a fountain of black blood to stain the white of the snow. He thanked the fighters in Dale who'd damaged those orcs so badly that their armor were no longer of use. The thought of having to use orc equipment made him snarl in disgust, looking at the group of wounded enemies, all crawling pitifully and moaning. At least, he'd spent all of the orcish arrows he'd gathered the previous day.

Swinging his sword, he killed the last orc, slicing his neck, then one among the pile of two with their hamstrings cut. His blade pierced the dull leather of his jacket and met his heart. Legolas extracted his weapon and slit the wrist which held an axe. The coal-skinned orc shouted in pain then froze as Legolas directed the tip of his sword towards the face of his last living victim. The winter breeze filled his nostrils with cool air, and made locks of his blond hair float out of his hood. The orc raised terrified yellow and black eyes at him.

"Elf!" he spat, his voice cracking. "What are you waiting for? I won't beg."

"Why were you running?" replied Legolas after a contemplative silence. "Do you not know that you've lost? Your outpost was sacked. There is nothing left for you."

The perversion of a face cackled madly as it stretched its neck out to taunt him.

"More of us will come and tear your people's skin to shreds. Your women and children will be our slaves. That is what will happen."

All emotion flushed out of his heart as he pictured the Woodland Realm being invaded, tormented and sacked by a legion of orcs. He heard the vicious laugh of the incapacitated orc lying at his feet and only thought of making him silent. The cackled turned to frantic agonizing screams. Out of nowhere, the wolf had come to bite his ankle and shake the flesh off of it, spilling black blood.

"Agh! Stop!" he begged, reaching down to shoo the wolf but she fiercely clung at him. The orc cried. "Make that stupid dog stop!"

He was making a ruckus, and could draw attention from unwanted parties. Legolas ordered the wolf to stop, using elvish to add weight to his command. She reacted instantly and menacingly leered at him with her brown eyes. He killed the orc before he could speak again, chopping his head off. The cut wasn't as clean as an execution-styled beheading, but then was not a time for theatrics.

Legolas wiped the blood off his blade on the leather of his fallen enemy before placing the sword in its scabbard. Taking the time to retrieve his arrows, he paid no mind to the distant sounds coming from Dale. If the people of Lake Town had taken the city, protecting it from cowardly orcs was their own business. It wasn't his place to step in and interfere now that they'd taken matters into their own hands.

The snow thinned into patches along the river bank. Legolas searched the green vegetation, nearing the city, anxious to find more athelas. His left hand was now wet with perspiration and blood. The teeth of goblins were laden with poisonous filth. He regretted not having worn gloves...

He picked up a few ground herbs that weren't mature enough. Sighing, he tossed his hood in his back and raised his voice, attempting not to sound menacing.

"If you will shoot someone in the back, at least be silent about it."

Legolas rose to his feet and turned his cold blue eyes towards the short, young man that was unsteadily aiming his bow at him. The boy trembled before slowly letting go of the bowstring, his messy brown hair floating around his head.

"You are Bard's son," Legolas stated.

"And you're an elf," the boy replied. "I thought your kind had left yesterday."

"They have..." Legolas packed his herbs in the now empty pouch Luthias had given to him. He then looked towards the south, where the river lead to Lake Town. "Do you know which direction they went?"

The boy raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. "That way, then towards the great forest. Did they leave you behind?"

Quite the contrary, Legolas thought to himself. He swallowed his bitter comment and stretched his lips to attempt a smile.

"I got side-tracked."

Curious, the boy took a few steps towards him, scrutinizing his appearance.

"I know you. You were there when orcs attacked my family. You and that other lady-elf."

Listening in silence, Legolas made no sound or movement, remembering perfectly of that night. Tauriel had stayed with the dwarves and Bard's children while he'd run after Bolg. The boy continued on.

"My home was destroyed. Everyone lost everything. It all happened so fast."

There was a darkness in the young one's eyes, a grim contemplation of the violence with which death had fallen upon his world. Legolas had seen so many young children suddenly grow into adults because of war. Bard's son was no exception, but it still rattled his heart to witness such tragedy.

Facing him, Legolas motioned for the boy's weapon. "May I see your bow?"

First hesitant, the young archer handed over his dark-wooden bow and observed with attention as Legolas inspected the rough crafting. It had sufficient tension for a boy his size, the string showed sign of use at the middle but held strong. Legolas pulled it at half length, aware of his own force. Displaying a satisfied smile, he relented the bow.

"You will make a fine marksman. Your father should be proud."

"He is," the boy confidently replied, then let out a tired sigh as he looked towards the lake. "My sisters have asked me to go and find their toys and dolls in our house, but father won't let me. He says it's too dangerous but, I know there's no one out there. All the orcs and goblins were either drowned or burned."

"The dragon's fire may have rendered the town unstable, and easy to collapse. You should listen to your father."

His heart raced upon hearing his own words.

"He doesn't know I'm here," said the young man. "But when he finds out, he'll want to talk to you. He's been upset since the elves left us."

Looking over the boy's shoulder and towards the battle-damaged ruins of Dale, a wave of grief and guilt brushed over Legolas.

"Then I shall pay him a visit. I might even commend your diplomatic skills to him, Bard's son."

"Call me Bain."

"I will. And you can call me Legolas."

The fear and sadness had faded from Bain's voice and attitude as they walked the frozen ground towards Dale, his family's new home. He strode with purpose, head high. Legolas recalled his own childhood, a sheltered one, playing and learning in the halls of his father, the King of the Woodland Realm. At Bain's height, he'd only begun exploring the woods around the heavily guarded fortress. Whereas the son of Bard already had defended his own home from an orc invasion, and aided his father with slaying the terrifying Smaug.

Before entering the gates, Legolas gave a last gaze the valley behind him. There was no one, nothing in sight. The gate was guarded by two tired-looking soldiers, and Legolas passed between them with an unnamed feeling in the back of his mind.

Bain lead him across rubble and pools of mixed black and red blood until they climbed a few steps leading up to a great house. The armories of Dale were being lifted and hung over the armored door. Paying no heed to the worker's, Bain walked underneath the heavy sign and urged Legolas to follow him into the royal halls. People were shouting inside. They found Bard hammering on a plank of wood, fixing a bench while more men were helping putting the throne room back in shape.

The bearded man, now lord of Dale and titled Dragonslayer, raised a hard stare at Legolas, which softened as he noticed his son at the elf's side.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Prince of Mirkwood." Bard stood and wiped his hands to the side of his tunic before stepping closer. "Welcome to my humble abode."

"I found your son wandering the banks of the river," replied Legolas.

"Did you, now?" Bard asked Bain, a questioning look on his face. "And did you try to convince him to take you to Lake Town, as well?"

"Rather, he convinced me to come to your counsel." Legolas paused, and pushed back a sigh of regret. "But I have not come to represent the will of my people. Whatever help I can provide is my own."

Bard raised an eyebrow at him and turned his back, resuming his work. He picked up from the floor a drapery with embroidered sigils, dusting it off before folding it.

"I don't know why you came back and that's not my business. But when your people left, it was clear that you got what you came for and left us with the cleaning up. I won't hold resentment against the Woodland Realm, Prince Legolas. Just know that, from now on, whatever dealings we have with the orcs, we'll manage on our own."

Legolas shifted his stance, bringing his hands together at his belt.

"That does sound like resentment."

"What's done is done," retorted Bard, disenchanted. "We all took fair shares of the gold and jewels. Thorin is dead. We can rebuild and grow until the next enemy shows up."

And word of the riches of Dale would soon spread throughout the west, and the east. It lied like a front post guarding Mirkwood from unwanted visitors. If it weren't the dwarves of Iron Hills, then it would be far worse.

"King Thranduil was able to change his mind about leaving his land to fight alongside you. He may do it again."

"For what? He already has his gems."

Legolas revised his intentions before speaking further of his father's political strategies. Men were not all born with ill-intent, he could somehow sense that Bard was of that exception.

"For safety. Evil lurks and rises from the shadows. Keeping our alliance strong may be the key asset to help protect our people."

"Ah." Bard stopped picking up pieces of furniture to stare directly at Legolas. "Then I'd urge you to share these thoughts with your father. If I couldn't get through to him, then maybe he'd listen to his son."

It took all of his nerve to maintain a stoic appearance but Legolas was sure he'd been clenching his jaw too strongly. Nearby, Bain had taken a step back and was helping a couple of girls tidying chairs. They were his sisters, Legolas recognized their faces from the night of the attack on Lake Town. They looked at him and he didn't dare look back. He'd spilled a lot of orc blood upon their rugs, beds, kitchen table...

"They're going to need time to recover. Losing their mother and now, this."

Bard gazed at his children with a sadness no word could alleviate. At the mention of their mother, Legolas took a breath and gathered his courage to speak.

"You're giving them a chance for happiness in these dark times. I was there when the orcs arrived in Lake Town, Bard. These children have proven to be very capable."

Eyes widening, the dark-haired man seemed to search his words. "You were there?"

"The orcs were after the dwarves you took into your home."

He didn't judge necessary to mention Tauriel, who fought alongside him then organized the escape of the dwarves and the children. Bard pinched his own bearded chin, pensive, and nodded sharply.

"Then I admit to have misjudged you, Prince of Mirkwood."

"Just Legolas, if you will."

After a second's hesitation, he clasped Bard's extended hand. Then, the Dragonslayer looked down onto his left hand.

"Would you like my physicians to have a look at that?"

"It will heal soon enough."

Bard smiled and patted his shoulder. "I insist. After all you've done for us, getting you patched up is the least I could do."

The physician in Dale was an old woman very much surprised to have an elf to care for. She had many disinfecting oils and ointments at her disposal, despite the hastened exodus from her home in Lake Town. The place she worked at was a medical tent where many soldiers, young and old, were lying, recovering from combat. Among the moans of pain and the silence of mourning, people stopped in their tracks to gaze at Legolas as the women tended to his bite marks.

Then, she gave him a vial of herbal infusion to drink in order to fend off the blood infection. Legolas didn't tell her of his superior immune system as compared to humans. Elves didn't get sick, unless affected by some dark spell.

Newly bandaged and free to roam the remains of the city, he found Bain again, and this time the boy was waiting for him on a crate of goods given to the people of Lake Town by the Woodland elves.

"Why is the lady-elf not with you?"

In other circumstances, he would have been endeared by a child's candidness but this was a subject with which he hadn't yet made his peace. Legolas tilted his head to one side and maintained eye contact.

"She has a very important mission to take care of, far into the east."

"And what's your mission, then?"

His mission, Legolas repeated to himself in thought. Did it matter that a child knew of his motives and progress in life? Adults remembered what they were told as children and it was likely that the tale of Legolas would be recounted in any detail that could be found. Perhaps he would still be alive when Bain would have his own offspring, and in turn tell them the stories of the battle of Erebor.

"My mission," Legolas answered, "is to protect those that can't fight back against a growing enemy. But first I must travel to discover what it is."

A pure expression of envy floated on Bain's face, then he jumped to his feet, adjusting the hold of his bow and quiver across his back.

"That's what I want to do. I don't want the orcs to come back and torment my people. I will hunt down every last one of them."

Legolas kept his hands down but straightened his back, looking down on the boy with a stern expression. He cautiously hid the creeping fear that pushed in his mind atrocious images of tortured children enslaved by orcs and goblins.

"Think of your sisters, young Bain. Who will protect them if you leave? Until they are grown and able to fend for themselves, you must remain by their side at all cost. That is your mission, for now, do not neglect it."

Head lowered, Bain nodded and they both finished touring the city. Soldiers and carpenters made no fuss of his presence and Legolas did his best not to make waves. Bain told him of the combat that occurred in the city, and the marks left by stone-crushing ogres were clearly visible. Suddenly, he stepped on a piece of broken wood.

Legolas picked it up; it was ornate with elvish designs and a bowstring. Tauriel's bow.

"Did you know who it belonged to?" Bain asked, examining the shattered weapon.

"Yes," Legolas answered, his voice deepened by anger. "She should have died, that day."

"Good thing she only lost her bow, then."

"Indeed, young Bain... It was just a bow."

_To be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I'm really writing this quick. I must be having one of those streak obsessions again. Anyway, I haven't really planned this ahead but I had fun coming up with this setting. It's not often that you get to see kids in Tolkien tales!
> 
> Please review under a username so that I can reply. Thanks for reading!


	4. The Watcher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dale is at peace, but for how long?

**The watcher**

The great bell rang six times, echoing around the city as the people of Dale cheered with joy. Watching from the walkways, up on the wall, Legolas stood beside Bain, arms folded. The vigilant young man leaned over the ledge, facing the valley and the river as it cascaded below.

"Dale was known for its bells," Legolas told him. "Their sound can be heard as far as Esgaroth, on the Celdwin river. They were meant to warn the valley of the dangers that the lie within Erebor."

"You mean Smaug," corrected Bain without looking. "You can say his name. He's not coming back, you know?"

Smirking at the reminder of the dragon's slaying by his father, Legolas adjusted his speech with respect.

"My apologies, son of Bard, Dragonslayer."

Bain rubbed a hand against his forehead and slowly turned to face Legolas before shrugging.

"Everyone is always so protective of me, like I can't be on my own or defend myself. At thirteen years old I'm not a child anymore."

"And I have seen thousands of years pass," impishly replied Legolas. "You are all children to me."

Mouth gaped, Bain stood silent for a moment before directing his gaze downward where the hills rolled white and orange under the setting sun of the west.

"I see movement. There." His index pointed at the gray spot that glided along the horizon.

"You have good eyes, for a son of man," Legolas remarked. "That is a gray wolf of the northern valley. It has followed me since Erebor."

Legolas paused and held Bain's stare so as to divert him from the animal.

"When I left the battleground I found her wounded and starving as she was a victim of goblin torture. They use wolves to serve them in war, just like they would capture and abuse young people like you and your sisters to become slaves."

Burning embers lit the boy's eyes but no tears came, he only took a deep breath, exhaled and pulled out a dagger from his belt. It was simple weapon without ornaments, but looked very sharp.

"For as long as I live, never will another orc, goblin or troll pass these gates. I promise."

The grim look of a warrior was on Bain as he sheathed his blade and Legolas kept a rebuttal to himself, once again saddened that a soul so young would age so fast.

A voice rose from the foot of the wall, calling Bain's name. It was the oldest daughter of Bard who hurried up the stairs to find her brother. Not much taller than him, she stood confidently and gazed straight ahead of her, dark curly locks escaping her bun as the wind blew.

"Bain," she called again, "you missed dinner time and father is worrying."

She stopped talking to look up at Legolas, her stern face turning aghast, losing her words.

"I'll be right there, Sigrid," replied Bain. "Legolas and I were discussing defense strategies against the orcs."

Her eyes flew from her brother to the elf when she tightened the wrap of a woolen shawl around her neck.

"Regardless, we don't want you to keep father up with your constant roaming. I'm supposed to look after you. Remember?"

"I'm fine," Bain insisted as they both followed her towards the keep. "Besides, Legolas was with me all afternoon. You do know that we would be dead if not for him, don't you?"

Looking over her shoulder, Sigrid let out a short sigh before nodding. "I do. And I thank you, sir. My little brother can be headstrong, if not stubborn, ever since he's been killing orcs and running with sharp objects."

There were soldiers and guards patrolling the streets at all times, it wasn't like he'd been the only example of violence and killing available to the young man. Legolas returned a sideways look at Sigrid, unwavering from her duty as the older sister and lead them towards the dining hall. A plate of food and drink was waiting on the large, empty table.

"Eat," ordered Sigrid to Bain. "Then go to your room as soon as you finished."

The boy did not protest, showing utmost respect towards his sibling despite the harsh tone she used. Letting the family have their matters in private, Legolas exited the keep and stood on the terrasse, night fall was near, and the western sky turned to crimson red.

"He admires you."

Sigrid stood at the large door, keeping her distances behind Legolas. He addressed the young woman a sympathetic nod.

"My efforts to discourage your brother from taking up arms to fight intruders seem vain. He is a warrior at heart."

"And the heir to the throne of Dale," she added to his sentence, arms folded tightly beneath her shawl. "He is too young to be fighting. We'll need a peacekeeper, not a fighter. I fear he may start to believe it's the only way to be if you keep in his company for too long."

Pulling a sandy brown lock of hair behind her ear, she avoided his gaze and fixed a point on the horizon. The setting sun and the past weeks made her look very much like a grown woman.

"He will have you as a more lasting impression. I am merely passing by."

While Bain was driven by grief and revenge, his sister was projecting a strength much like that of their father. Sigrid's voice sounded earnest when she approached the balustrade to lean and look down towards the city.

"I would have taken up arms to fight, to the death if need be. I know what sacrifice means. My mother..." Her words faded suddenly and she lifted up wide eyes at him, before straightening her back and clearing her throat. "I still remember my mother and if I die, too, there wouldn't be many left to claim that they knew her."

It had been so long since Legolas had seen his own mother, so long that his memories of her were fleeting like a partially forgotten dream. There were days when he'd come to realize that he no longer remembered the sound of her voice. His father never spoke of her, never celebrated his wife. She was as good as lost forever.

Legolas dared not close his eyes or make a sound for a moment. Thinking of Dale, the snow hills and the wolf made his sorrow light and he was able to breathe normally again.

Sigrid broke his line of thought with a question, looking at him with concern.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No," he reassuringly answered, stretching his lips. "Your words rang true to what I've been struggling to understand on my own. For that I'm grateful, Lady Sigrid."

If it weren't for the light of dusk, he would have said that she was blushing slightly.

"I'm just a common girl from Lake Town, Master Elf. Even if my father is the ruler here, I'm still  _just_  Sigrid, and always will be."

"Wisdom and devotion seem to come naturally to you," explained Legolas. "Your mother must have been a remarkable woman."

Smiling timidly, Sigrid turned away again to look at the last ray of the setting sun.

"She was."

The caged fires made shadows dance along the streets and pathways in the night time. Legolas found his way outside the gates of Dale, walking out and into the darkness under the stars. Guards could still see him if they had his own elf eyes, but they were men and he would have to announce himself once returning to the bridge. He'd let them know of any incidents during his leave.

Legolas sat alone on a boulder, finding himself at the top of a rocky hill. He embraced the silence, the solitude. Peace, at last.

But he missed the tall trees of his home, the rustling of leaves in the wind, the constant sound of life as it thrived in the haven of Mirkwood. The homesickness was fleeting, he was familiar with it, and it passed as soon as he focused his attention elsewhere.

In the dead of the night, far across the valley to the east, he spotted a shadow creeping at the foot of a lonely oak. Smiling to himself, Legolas stood and ventured forth.

Only the snow cracking under his boots made any noise as he approached the tree. The brambles surrounding it weren't as thick as to provide cover for anything to hide. His suspicion grew while his heart sunk. Where had the wolf gone?

Eyes widening, Legolas scanned his surroundings for movement, a scent, a track in the snow. He paced around the tree and looked for paw prints.

Boot prints in a single line coming from downhill, they were smaller than his own. They lead to the tree, circled a few times and ended there. Legolas looked up, his chest tightening around his fast beating heart.

The black rubber sole of a boot landed upon his face and he fell backwards in utter shock. His mind raced as he struggled to get up - to look up at his assailant - and mentally listed all of the potential threats known in the region. The absence of smell or sound eluded him completely. But now he could hear the breathing of a person; it sounded as that of a man.

Dressed in all black attire, face masked by dark fabric, they stood a head shorter than Legolas. Another kick flew towards him but this time he was prepared. Dodging back, he replied with a swipe of his own leg and failed to topple the man who leaped and hit Legolas square in the chest. Lungs emptied violently, shaken by the attack, Legolas pulled out his daggers and slashed at another blow directed to his head. He missed again. It was but a shadow that he was trying to catch and it managed to make him fall again, hitting his knee and back. One weapon was knocked out of his grasp.

The snow softened his fall but rage came over him. Legolas waited, seething, a hand hidden in his back still clutching his remaining knife. The eyes of his attacker were visible through a small opening in his mask. They were circled with black and he was sallow-skinned. Easterling. What were they doing here?

Legolas shut down his questioning and took his chance. The man was right over him, he kicked him in the ankle, and as the masked one began to roll forward, Legolas struck with his blade, piercing his side. The man let out a gasp. He fell upon Legolas, accidentally pressing his body on top of his. He - she - had undeniable female attributes. She started to run.

Quickly regaining his balance, Legolas had his bow and arrow ready and aimed at the Easterling.

"Don't move!" he warned.

But he was compelled to fire an arrow into the woman's leg to make her stop. Before he released his bowstring, a blur of gray and white made her topple over. The wolf caught one of her forearms and shook its head vigorously, strong paws holding the Easterling to the ground. Legolas caught up with them and aimed his arrow at her.

"I said," he growled, "don't move."

As if answering his command, the wolf let go of the female and stepped back, still growling. Dark eyes looked up at Legolas, pleading silently.

"Who are you and what brings you here?" he asked.

She gave no response. Pulling her up, Legolas realized his clothes were covered in blood. He used the pummel of his sword to knock the female unconscious.

The gates opened when he was seen carrying the inert body of the Easterling female. The guards shouted for Bard to be awakened for an emergency. The Lord of Dale wasn't asleep, luckily, and arrived promptly in an annex of the keep's war room. Still soiled with the blood of his attacker, Legolas tied the stunned woman to a solid chair for interrogation and soldiers circled the perimeter. Having caught a spy meant absolute containment of the information. The city was placed under lock down in case more foes lurked.

Physicians helped clean up the wounds and bandage the prisoner. Bard looked angered as he paced around the Easterling. Her mask was removed so they could see her darkened eyelids over pale sallow complexion. The woman's hair was jet-black and straight although tied to a bun in the back of her neck. A splash of cold water woke her up and she gasped, eyes blinking before she looked around her. Her surprise turned to rage and disappointment.

"Where is the rest of you?" Bard asked pressingly. "Where is your outpost?"

Narrowing her brown eyes, she eyed Legolas, then slowly blinked before setting her gaze on Bard. No word came out of her mouth.

The bowman took a few steps back, holding the handle of his sword at his belt.

"How long have you been here? Two? Three days?"

Still no answer.

"Open your mouth," ordered Bard, "so that we can see if you still have your tongue."

She did nothing of what she was asked.

"You will speak," Legolas calmly said, deciding to step up.

Unsheathing one of his daggers, he stepped behind the woman to lock her head against his blade. She barely resisted, almost leaning into his weapon.

"Legolas," suddenly intervened Bard. "This may not be necessary."

He pointed at the woman's neck, then leaned forward to pull down the collar of her tunic.

Turning around to face her, Legolas parted his lips before sighing through his nostrils. He put away his dagger. The woman had had her vocal chords ripped out and the scar was a thin red line on her neck.

The look in her eyes was not exactly defiant, and not pleading either. It was an expression of both hatred and submission.

Once put away in an iron-barred cell, the intruder was placed under guard and isolated while Bard and Legolas conversed in the war room. The large oaken table had carvings of a map of the region. He had his tunic taken for cleaning and stood with the Lord of Dale in his chain mail and shirt.

"There hasn't been any men of Rhûn in the west for countless years," muttered Bard, pacing along the table with his hands clasped in his back. "Do you think they're coming after the gold?"

Legolas, standing aloof across the room, let his attention wander over the map.

"Easterlings never leave their realm unless driven by war against Gondor. They avoid the mountains and forest, out of fear or caution. My kin has never been merciful towards the Men of Darkness." His gaze traveled towards the prisoners quarters. "We caught one of their spies, but that doesn't mean another will come. Rhûn is a long journey away."

Shaking his head at him, Bard frowned pessimistically.

"We are not ready for another siege."

"A siege is what you would have if you respond to their provocation." Legolas paused to consider what he could tell about a prisoner that couldn't speak. "A lone, unarmed scout, rendered speechless and sent far from her country during the harsh season. How is this not a suicidal mission?"

Bard, evidently intrigued by that line of thought, folded his arms against his chest.

"They're expecting us to come to them."

"It's been too long since the Easterlings have fought the Free People. They're itching for war."

And so were all armies of the darkness, down to the spiders in Mirkwood. If danger was closing in from the east, then they would be caught in an ambush of unprecedented scale. Legolas wondered about Tauriel. Had she come in contact with the Dwarves of Dun, she would be facing even more pressing matters if the Men of Rhûn were on their way.

"You seem familiar with them," remarked Bard. "Would the King of the Woodland Realm gather his forces to oppose the Easterlings?"

"If presented with compelling evidence of their plans to attack. I would have to investigate."

"Please, Legolas. If help is what you've come to provide, this would be a great aid to us... I'm afraid our men wouldn't find courage at the thought of fighting again so soon."

The request he heard made Legolas question his allegiance with the people of Dale. His father and his kin had fought alongside them, yes, but that didn't mean the elves of Mirkwood could become their devoted soldiers.

"Let them hear reason when the time comes," he told Bard. "They pledged their allegiance to you, did they not?"

Bard furrowed his brow at him. "We are healing and rebuilding. These are not times for warmongering."

Legolas narrowed his eyelids before turning away.

"The prisoner may not have a voice, but she can still give us information."

He'd interrogated plenty of enemies before, sometimes using extreme measures to obtain answers. Easterlings spoke their own tongue, scarcely knowing Westron, and were averse to elves. Getting an able-bodied Rhûn man to talk was enough of a struggle. Legolas approached the iron bars of the cell without a plan. The woman lied on her wooden cot, a hand resting on the bandaged section of her abdomen. Her left forearm was patched, too, because of the wolf's fangs as it held her down. She opened her eyes and slowly sat up.

"Would you like to eat?" asked Legolas.

She nodded, once.

Deciding that an individual should be judged for their actions, Legolas asked a guard to provide drink and food. The Easterling hadn't acted unprovoked, she would have been armed if killing anyone was her intention.

Some water, bread and hot vegetable stew was provided after a few minutes. The portion was large, as if the cook expected the meal to be for him. He gave the bowl and jug to the prisoner instead, and watched as she eagerly drank the water, and used the bread to eat the stew. She wasn't going to speak anyway, he thought.

She returned the empty jug and bowl and went back to sit on her cot. She held her side again, wincing.

"Were you spying on me?" Legolas asked.

She shook her head before looking at him furtively.

"So, were you spying on the people of Dale?"

No reaction, which told him enough to continue on.

"Are you from Rhûn?" No. "The Dunlands?"

A hesitation, and she nodded. Beyond the Blue Mountains, east of Mordor, were the Dunlands. The people who dwelt there were wildlings, savages, brute men who associated with the men of Rhûn under Khamul, carrier of a ring of power given to him by Sauron. The corrupting forces of that evil spread far across the lands and pushed people into submission.

"Are you scouting for an attack on Dale?"

Sad eyes lifted up and she looked at him, imploring. Slowly, she motioned "no" with her lips and looked at her toes again.

Legolas felt tension in his legs as his gut told him to keep his distance, focus on something else and maybe leave that town for a while. When he'd observed someone talk to another elf through prison bars, it had been a dwarf who entertained romantic feelings towards his interrogator. Crossing his arms he skeptically cocked an eyebrow at the Dunlending.

"Did you come here alone?"

An affirmative response. She clutched at the bed, nails digging idly at the wood. If he believed her he would have to risk the safety of his new haven. There was time and protection to be gained by keeping her restrained for now.

As he had hoped, Legolas found Bard eavesdropping in the anti-chamber of the jail, a concerned expression on his tired face.

"Do with her as you please," he told the Lord of Dale. "She doesn't seem very consequential."

"Then why was she made unable to speak? She couldn't tell you of her secrets."

"She came here unarmed and alone. Pity is what one would have towards a female shunned from her lands. Do not fall for that trap."

"So, you admit there might be foul play. What would Lord Thranduil do?"

Legolas felt his jaw muscles contract at the thought of his king, his father. He still felt the sudden weight of the orc's head as his neck was severed by Thranduil's blade. Legolas had gotten angry, but soon understood why his father needn't waste more time on a prisoner.

"My father would tell you to keep training your army, to stay alert and not hesitate to send word to Mirkwood if you suspected an invasion from the East."

Throwing a look back at the Easterling, Bard mulled over a thought before giving Legolas his answer.

"I will release the prisoner. Since she won't speak, we'll have to figure out what she does next." Before Legolas had time to protest his plan, Bard pointed a finger at him. "I will have her followed, of course."

"You would misplace your trust in me for that task."

"Why not? With all due respect, Master Elf, have you not proven your abilities in combat and defense?"

Legolas shot back a lethal look at Bard. It wasn't often that anyone would so easily provoke him.

"Perhaps I should make my intentions clear for your mortal mind," he responded, letting the man slowly back away from him. "The Easterling wouldn't last long under my watch. I have more pressing matters to tend to."

"Then the woman stays here," calmly said Bard, lines forming upon his forehead. "If pity and compassion are what makes men weak, then I'm glad I'm not as strong as you or your kin, Prince of Mirkwood."

Troubled to the point of silence, Legolas took leave of Bard, accepting that he, as an undying elf, would have time to witness and learn from the fall of men. Eventually he would find solace in having stood his ground in the face of adversity. Recovering his cloak, Legolas strode off into the sleeping streets of Dale.

"Lord Legolas."

Not completely asleep, to his displeasure. Legolas turned towards the short-haired, bearded young man running up to him, holding a short sword. It was the soldier who had opened the gates for him when Legolas brought the spy into town. He was panting and spoke quickly.

"Our guards spotted a wolf over the eastern hills. They're waiting for it to come closer so they can kill it... I told them not to, but they wouldn't listen."

Breaking into a run, Legolas climbed up the stairs to reach the top of the wall, immediately spotting two archers looking in the same direction. It would be light soon, beyond the eastern horizon, and they would be able to get a clear shot of the wolf.

"My Lord," said one guard, a crooked smile on his lips, "joining us for the hunt?"

"You will do no such thing. That wolf belongs to me. Stand down, or I will see that you take its place with nothing but your hair to keep you warm."

What cheer the two men shared suddenly dissipated and they froze in disappointment. The other guard wrinkled his nose with scorn.

"Then have it leave our lands," retorted the first guard. "We won't have no mangy dog causing distress to our townsmen."

All three men looked at him, expecting a reprimand or threat. Legolas made no such remark and simply headed towards the stairs. His arrival at Dale coincided with that of the Easterling and now a wild predator. Staying any longer would be frowned upon. The friendly soldier walked at his side and waited to be out of earshot of the guards.

"I can't promise they won't attempt to hunt your wolf," he said with a cynical tone. "These men crave the high of battle. They've waited years to have something to kill and defending this city wasn't enough, it seems."

"What is your name, soldier?"

"Aered, my Lord," diligently replied the man.

Legolas made a conscious effort to remember the name, pushing back the nagging thought that he might never see or hear of that man again.

"You have my gratitude, Aered. But I've lingered too long among your people. I must be gone by daylight."

He found the way back to the keep where Bard's people were tending to his tunic and prepared a room for the night. The guard stood by and waited for his moment to speak.

"For what it's worth, Lord Legolas, your presence here gave me hope. All of my family now believes we can have a future with the elves as our friends, and not just during a war. You see, my wife tailors fine clothes and makes pottery. My father died at the hands of a troll... I don't want my sons to follow in my footsteps, or his."

Trying to soften his painful smile, Legolas faced Aered with what little honesty he could offer.

"Hope is good, Aered of Dale. Keep your family hopeful but not blind to dangers that come from the east. Dreaming of peace comes at a cost."

"I won't forget your words of wisdom, my Lord." The soldier nodded sharply before straightening his back. "If you must leave so soon, it would be my honor to provide you with anything you need on your journey."

Legolas didn't want to enable so much reverence towards him or abuse of their hospitality, but the people of Dale had been given much help and assistance in times of need. Perhaps one change of clothes and one horse was payment enough.

He had gotten no sleep that night, and by sunrise Legolas rode the eastern path towards the hills. The guards atop the watchtowers could see him disappear into the morning mists, riding a black steed and wearing the brown attire of the Dale rangers.

The sun rose orange and bright, shedding light and warmth upon his skin, its reflection upon the snow blinding him. Legolas turned his head to look over his shoulder. Dale was illuminated in daylight and the bells rang six times. Soon, people would notice his absence and they may not wonder why he'd left.

Snow crunched and the horse blew its nostrils in distress, drawing his attention back on the road ahead. He found his smile when a black nose and clear brown eyes were directed at him, attentive to his next decision.

"Good morning, wolf."

_To be continued._


	5. A bargain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas ventures south to discover that his suspicions were right.

**A bargain**

White paws splashed and trod in the shallow waters, chasing the large fish as it tried to reach the depths of the lake. Eventually, the wolf caught her prey and held it between her fangs, head high and dripping wet as she briskly walked back to the shore.

The scalded remains of Esgaroth - Lake Town, for its late inhabitants - were no longer in sight. From the south point of the lake, where the Celdwin river ran thin and slow, Mirkwood was a line of tall green trees to the west. Constantly tempted to head home and ask his father forgiveness, Legolas solemnly looked into the river as Solmyr, the horse given to him by the people of Dale, drank from the cold waters.

The sun shone bright at the top of the sky, melting the snow until the next storm would cover the landscape in white again. If spring came early, the ice from the Lonely Mountain would make the river turn to rapids and crossing over would become problematic for troops on foot. Orcs were not good swimmers. There was something about the forces of evil and water. Nazguls were known never to step close to any pond or brook. Water brought life, but once raging and furious could easily destroy everything in its way.

A two-day old campfire had lead him there, and a bed of dead leaves and moss indicated that a short figure had rested near his position. Easterlings could easily follow Celdwin north from the Sea of Rhûn, within a two-week march or less. A single person must have come from an outpost no father than the old forest road.

For a while, the only noises he heard were the wet munching of the wolf’s jaws into raw salmon flesh. Normally, a wolf would bring her pray into her nest and feed her young. Normally, a horse wouldn’t tolerate the presence of a wild predator in any given situation.

And a normal elf wasn’t supposed to wander alone, dressed in men’s garb and chasing the ghost of an enemy. His obligations lied within the halls of his king, to serve his realm from the inside. Legolas let the thoughts flow with the current of the river and let his breath out. Pulling his eyes towards the horizon in the south, he turned his heels to resume his trip.

With the snow lacking in the south there were no traces left of the Easterling. Legolas watched for every flattened patch of soil, each stop the wolf made as she smelled the ground and the air. Solmyr slowed as they were led through woods, hills and a rocky cliff above the riverbed.

The Easterling female could not speak, so she had no purpose in meeting the dwellers of the small camp that lied below. Legolas set foot to the stone ground and cautiously eased his approach on the edge of the cliff.

Fishermen, two of them, and a handful of armed guards. Two were sitting around a fire while the other stood alert either side of the camp. All six of them wore the black garb of the Men of Rhûn.

They were so close, too close to Mirkwood. Feeling his heart hasten in his chest, his eyes grew dark and wide with anticipation for combat. Legolas turned around from his prone position, bow in hand as he slowed his breath. He had to pick the guards first, then the ones dining and chatting quietly. With luck, the two fishermen weren’t as heavily armed or protected. He needed answers from only one of them.

He was alone and that fact haunted him with doubt. The proper course of action would take him to signal the sentinels in the Woodland Realm and return with reinforcement. He was Legolas, son of King Thranduil, and former commander of his people’s army. He was many things but he wasn’t a hero.

As he lay thinking, he caught sight of the wolf standing right at the top of the edge, looking down with her ears pointing straight at the Easterlings. Male voices rose from below. Swords unsheathed. They were coming.

Legolas swiftly jumped to his feet and shooed the wolf away from the cliff. The first man to come into view had climbed a few unsteady rocks, a curved blade in his right hand, his black coif did not hide his dark-skinned face and his look was more surprised than that of Bain’s from two days before. A yellow-feathered arrows pierced his lightly armored chest and he fell backwards with a yelp.

Branches cracked in his back. Legolas swiveled and aimed at another man in black, a new arrow ready to hit its target without fail. This other guard ducked just in time and the arrow barely missed his head. His sword was low and pointed upward as he stroke at the elf. Legolas tossed himself out of the way, rolled and put a knee down to stop and lock the man’s sword arm against the ground. Grabbing one of his daggers, Legolas slashed his throat and liberated the sword from him.

The other two guards came from the same side and right in front of their target. The wolf lunged at them. Legolas gasped and held his breath as he saw the extended curved blades. He yelled something but didn’t register what words came out of his mouth. His bow was already releasing a fast shaft before the wolf was even close enough to be struck by the blade.

One man yelled, his hand caught with an arrow through and through, the weapon dropped and, upon seeing the injury, his companion screamed a raging cry and raised his sword over his head to furiously kill the animal. But the wolf was already squeezing the wounded man’s throat between her fangs. Legolas shot the remaining guard, straight through the head, and he remembered of the fishermen.

Alerted by the screams and growls, they arrived, armed with long knives, no longer carrying their fishing sticks. They were soldiers, too. Legolas shot another arrow and moved forward, switching to his sword and one of his daggers to be able to parry any attacks from the agonizing Easterling. A single arrow to the chest took at least a few seconds to end the life of a hardy fighter. Dodging the first swing, Legolas struck at the second attacker, bending backwards to avoid a retort of a knife aiming at his neck. His dagger spun in his hand and he struck a reverse hit to the guard’s arm. He used his sword as a shield, until the man caved under the strike and knocked Legolas’s long blade with a high kick.

He wouldn’t let a man put him at a disadvantage. Legolas grabbed the hand that attacked him with a knife and pushed forward until he was close enough to look into the Easterling’s black eyes. There was nothing but hate, and fear in them. Throwing back his head, Legolas struck the man in his nose, barely feeling the hit upon his forehead as his opponent stumbled and fell. Blood rushed through his nostrils and his mouth and chin were red. But he didn’t fall, he didn’t relinquish from the fight. Slowly regaining balance, the Easterling groaned and tried to swing his knife at Legolas, but he was firmly locked within the elf’s grasp. Men couldn’t admit defeat when faced with a superior force. Legolas made him see reason and kicked him in the groin. Suddenly the man dropped to his knees and the knife bounced on the ground with a clank.

Catching his breath, Legolas retrieved his sword and walked back to the man in pain. He looked up, moaning a plead in the tongue of Rhûn. Spitting to rid his mouth of a few of his own loose hairs, Legolas replied in kind, summoning what few words he remembered of the eastern dialects.

“What brings you here, Easterling?”

Slowly recovering, the soldier straightened his shoulders, yet still clutching at his pained body.

“We are looking for our prisoner. She escaped four days ago.”

What he said next was beyond his mastery of the Rhûn tongue but the man sounded apologetic and sincere.

“Why is she your prisoner?” he asked.

The man’s face turned dark and hateful. “She is a traitor and a murderer. She had friends cut off her... so she couldn’t confess.”

A word was amiss in his vocabulary but he understood the gist of what the Easterling meant. Legolas put two and two together, and narrowed his eyelids as he held the tip of his sword under the man’s chin.

“Should I do the same to you if I let you live?”

“Kill me, elf. I will not face dishonor like a begging coward.”

There was no objection Legolas could think of. He braced his weapon tighter in his hand, and another question came to his mind as he was just about to strike.

“What is her name?”

Shocked and angered at the delay, the guard looked up and nearly spat his answer.

“She has no name. She should be dead, like her children, and all memory of her.”

The scorn he felt was almost a foreign thought, unexpected and unusual to his attitude while facing the enemy. He needed to see blood, and death as a reward for words he couldn’t accept. The soldier had stepped out of line. Legolas brought down his sword with so much force that the head fell off cleanly. Blood jut out of the severed neck and Legolas wiped it off his blade with the man’s black tunic before sliding it back in his scabbard. Visiting each corpse, he pulled out his arrows and got them clean as well.

The wolf had more red on her face and belly than anywhere else on the ground. Climbing down the cliff, Legolas prepared a fire while she bathed in the river and played with the fish as if none of the gruesome killing ever happened.

The bodies burned that day, and there would be none left to tell what they did or who they saw. They were nameless and their actions didn’t matter. Legolas watched the smoke rise from the pyre, reaching the sky as if to signal the East of his presence.

“Wolf,” he called, pressing his step.

Soon, another type of company would investigate the scene, and they would trace the steps back to him. Legolas knew it, he’d trained alongside them. If he did not disappear soon enough, they would show concern for his safety and demand that he would return to the King’s halls. Even if his father would forgive him, Legolas had nothing to apologize for.

And what of Tauriel? He thought of her journey to the Iron Hills and wondered if she’d stayed true to her objective, unlike him. She had sacrificed everything for the one she loved and now she was honoring his memory. Legolas was glad Solmyr was there to keep him moving, otherwise he would have stood still and pondered his situation. Tauriel had found her place, be it an unwise and lonely one, she was staying true to herself.

Whereas he was about to change his mind once again.

He pressed on south and the air and the trees changed. He felt too warm in his leather armor and he missed the chill of the frosty winds. After an entire day riding, Celdwin joined with river Carnen to form an even larger and powerful stream that headed east, towards the Sea of Rhûn. At this point there were very few trees, only plains and bushes as the lands were poor and sandy.

It was night time when he saw the first settlement of the men of the east. Their huts were made of crude mud and leather, having cut down what little wood they had on location, and their pyres lit up the entire valley. There were many roaming about the camp and the loudest voices were that of babies crying for food. Legolas couldn’t yet see their faces. Leaving Solmyr to drink at the river bank, he approached on foot, hood over his head, and stayed in the darkness. There was a guard nearby, more busy relieving himself in the tundra than doing his job.

Creeping up behind him was easy and Legolas held his knife against his throat before covering the man’s mouth with a gloved hand.

“Make a sound and it would be your last.”

The guard, not wearing a helmet, dressed in black, skin as dark as coal, nodded his head. He was a bit taller than Legolas but not as large.

“Go to your leader, and tell him the son of King Thranduil wishes to speak to him.”

It wasn’t long before a handful of masked guards arrived, spears and scimitars ready, circling Legolas at the edge of the settlement. He could see their eyes even in the dark of night, and they were fearful.

“Your weapons!” shouted one, his accent was heavy.

Slowly and deliberately reaching up with both hands, Legolas pulled his hood down and took a step forward. They all braced themselves for battle.

“They don’t come free,” he replied quietly. “Will you take me to your leader or do I have to kill everyone on my way there?”

He was no spy. When he needed answers he could just ask the people in charge.

“No weapons!” repeated the first guard, getting nervous.

“You’re making this more complicated than necessary...” Legolas, having warned the Easterlings, eyed the guards standing in his peripheral vision. “I have no interest in your camp. What I want is a simple discussion with your people.”

“Let him keep his weapons,” called a loud voice in a clear Westron.

They all turned back to see who spoke. An average height but impressively muscular man, in a cape with minimal armor and clothing. His short hair was jet black and his skin darker than tanned leather. The guards lowered their weapons and stood at attention, yet still wary of Legolas.

“I’m Orthal, the chief of this colony. What do you want, elf?”

He carried a long scimitar and a round shield in his back. Legolas did not sense fear in that man, perhaps he felt confident in his guards, or he didn’t know what elves were capable of.

“I know you have an assassin on the loose. A traitor whose name can’t be mentioned.”

They all took a perplexed expression. Orthal hardened his stare.

“How do you know this?”

“Your search party roamed too close to the Woodland Realms,” explained Legolas, studying the guards’ reaction as he spoke. “They were no match against a legion of our own rangers. They could hear your men breathing from miles away.”

Spears and scimitars pointed frankly towards his face and neck. Raising a mocking eyebrow, Legolas barely moved.

“You have some nerve, standing here and telling me of this treachery,” retorted the chief. “I should have you skinned and beheaded.”

“But you won’t.” Legolas, hands clasped in front of his belt buckle, stepped even closer to talk to Orthal in a lower voice, ignoring the guards’ spears. “I know where to find your fugitive, chief of Easterlings. And I would bring her to you.”

He paused, purely for effect and to let the man realize he actually knew of the assassin’s gender. Impatiently growling, he pursed his mouth with despise.

“What is your price, son of Thranduil?”

Legolas displayed a satisfied smile and directed his black and blue eyes towards the settlement.

“In three days, you would have your people packed and ready to go back to the East. You will not advance further. Do this, and by the time you leave I will return with the traitor.”

A scoff blew out of the Orthal's lips and he took a deep breath, puffing his chest.

“In three days,” he repeated, “we will see how well you’ve fared with a pitiless murderer at your side. But should you fail me, Prince of Mirkwood, you will sorely regret mistaking me for a fool.”

It wasn’t a wise bargain, Legolas was aware of the risk he was taking. In less time for him to ride up to Dale and come back, the Easterlings could assemble an entire army and march into Mirkwood as retaliation for the six guards that died. Even if they were doomed, a battle so close to home could leave scars for centuries. He needed to stay true to his word.

“My people have no qualms in being at war with yours,” he insisted. “What I offer is a chance for your families to stay alive and safe.”

Upon hearing his speak, Orthal took a moment to ponder his options, looking at Legolas, checking the surroundings and looking over his shoulder. He then nodded sharply.

“You have three days, elf.”

He would have sighed if he had that luxury. Legolas bowed his head and turned back towards the dark of the night. Solmyr waited patiently on the stone river bank. He could still feel the gazes of many in his back, Legolas consciously kept his attention forward and began to ride north.

Morning came eventually and, having not slept at all, Legolas had to keep his mind sharp. Splashing water upon his face, the wind brushed the worries away but only momentarily. The sun was just over the horizon when he heard a ruffling of leaves in the nearby bushes. Some of them appeared from behind trees, others through the undergrowth of the small woods east of Celdwin. He counted four, five bows and long silken heads of hair that held him at arrow-point.

“Well, well,” said the voice of Luthias, walking in front of Nallien and Gruvarin, two of the best rangers in the King’s guard. “An elf sporting the garb of Dale men? In these remote lands, no less?”

Legolas couldn’t brush off the smirk from his own face when the Captain of the Guard approached and placed a sturdy hand on his left shoulder. He looked concerned, but genuinely happy. The rest of the company put their weapons away.

“I’m impressed,” Legolas replied. “I thought you’d have more urgent matters than to go look after me, Luthias.”

The cheer faded completely from the younger elf’s eyes as he turned to look at the red sun, then gave Legolas a grimace of agitation.

“The intrusion of six Easterlings is very much my concern right now. As is your safety, my Lord.”

They must have seen the smoke rising from the piled corpses. Legolas walked back to Solmyr and secured the saddle.

“You needn’t worry for me now, friend. I’m headed back up north to deal with this situation. It needs to be handled swiftly - and quietly.”

“And what shall I tell your father?” Luthias scowled, thumbs stuck in his belt. “That I let you take a matter of war into your own hands, by yourself? He will have me hanged for this.”

The unwise decision was turning into an irresponsible one. Legolas let his thoughts flow and tried not to cheat his own instincts. He had to at least be reassuring, to think of his brothers and sisters, and give them a chance to do what they believed was right. He turned towards Luthias, Gruvarin, Nallien, all of them. Then he spoke in a clear, calm tone.

“There is a camp on the road south, far from our realm but close enough to pose a threat. I know what they are after. The men you found near the western road were searching for someone.” He nodded, showing confidence in his plan. “That is our bargaining chip and I’m headed back to Dale to retrieve it.”

“Then let us come with you, my Lord,” replied Luthias. “Who knows what dangers you will face when you meet the Easterlings again.”

All the elves looked young, none older than a thousand years, and looked eager to go on an adventure. Legolas kept his expression neutral and climbed upon his black horse. The man-made armor no longer felt restrictive, having grown accustomed to it over the days.

“In case of the worst, a handful of you wouldn’t suffice to fight off an army. Go to my father, and warn him of what may be upon us. We must prepare to defend our home.”

They all bowed in unison, almost looking disappointed, except Luthias. He made a short whistle and his white horse came forward. He climbed his steed and pulled the reigns to face him.

“With all due respect, Lord Legolas, I can’t let you go alone.”

“Fine,” he told Luthias, furrowing his brow in attempted annoyance. “But having yet another Captain desert his post will antagonize the King.”

“Not if that means having someone to protect his son while he prevents a war in our borders.”

Luthias smiled and squinted at the rising sun.

“It’s good to have you back.”

The journey with his fellow elves was a quiet but pleasant trip. Most kept to themselves but became polite and playful during the few stops they made to rest their horses. Legolas ate a piece of lembas they had brought along. The slightly sweet taste woke old memories. His first expedition out in the forest, learning to read tracks, recognizing every species of tree and plant, regardless of the season. Gruvarin, a slender red-haired Sylvan archer, had removed his boots and rolled up the bottom of his trousers before stepping into the river and stretching his back. His comrade, the light-haired female Nallien, joined Legolas and Luthias to sit on a pile of rocks while they ate. Her green eyes were directed at Legolas, and she bowed respectfully before coming to sit next to him.

“My Lord,” she softly began, “by no means do I wish to trouble you. Could I ask you about Tauriel?”

He looked back at her. The archer was a little older, perhaps his own age, and he’d hunted spiders alongside her several times before. She and Tauriel seemed to get along, if he recalled correctly.

“Of course,” he acknowledged.

Her face was grim. After a pause, she gazed him in the eye, something most didn’t dare unless they were fearless and impetuous like most talented soldiers of the guard.

“Everyone said she was banished because she was a traitor. But I don’t think so. She left on her own accord, did she not?”

“She disobeyed direct orders,” recounted Legolas, eyes lost on the ripples in the water nearby. “Her actions led us to jeopardize our security, which in all common sense makes her a traitor.”

Luthias watched in silence and listened with care, but his eyes were praying like a hawk on each of the words Legolas said. He continued.

“Her motivations were unclear to me, until the very end of the battle of Erebor. It did seem like she had personal motives, and no matter what my father would do to call her back to her senses, she would not falter from her position. There was no stopping Tauriel from running away.”

Nallien’s expression told nothing of what she already knew and if she was moved or surprised, she hid it well.

“You followed her, though. Wasn’t there a moment when she expressed regret in her actions?”

Legolas went deep in his recall. At first it was in the prisoners quarters, when she’d merely sounded like a rebellious elf taking interest in dwarves. Secondly, that moment when she’d run from the rejoicing festivities to spend time with Kili. Then, she’d gone extra miles and risk a lot to catch up to the escaping prisoners and her reaction towards the orc they interrogated. She’d always been fierce in her demeanor. Any moment when he’d asked for her insight or opinion on matters larger than her own concerns, he couldn’t tell if there was anything of significance. She had accepted her banishment right after the fall of Esgaroth. Following that day, he’d confided in her at Gundabad. What had she told him when she learned of his dead mother?

“No,” he finally replied to Nallien. “She was quite single-minded.”

“Oh.” She looked down at her pale hands upon her lap. “Tauriel and I would spend time sharpening our arrows and repairing our clothes after combat. She told me how she enjoyed the thrill of the fight, and she came off as quite courageous to me.”

“I’m glad to hear that she found a friend in you.”

Nallien vividly shook her head, letting loose a lock of blond hair over her left ear.

“We barely talked outside of our tour of duty. I’m too busy healing the wounded and building shelters for our animals. Whatever she did in the mean time, I had no idea.”

Legolas tilted his head to one side, curious as to why, then, would she ask so much about Tauriel. Nallien appeared to catch the hint of doubt in his eyes and bit her lips before speaking again.

“My Lord, please forgive me for saying this, but I assumed you would have been very troubled by Tauriel’s banishment, perhaps that explained your leave of absence. Since you followed her for most of the ordeal, there could be a good reason why things turned out the way they did.”

Now even Luthias looked confused and ashamed. Forcing his face to keep a stern appearance, Legolas felt his jaw tighten and he resisted the urge to stand up and leave.

“It was my father who urged me to call Tauriel back to her duties. I did care about her, as a friend and a fellow soldier. I care about everyone of us. Seeing her flee her responsibilities got me to take rash decisions.” He took a breath and drew his attention north. “In the end, I hunted orcs and brought support in combat to Thorin Oakenshield while Tauriel followed her own plans.”

“Such a waste,” commented Luthias. “Though we may have lost her, when these troubles are over I’m hopeful you will return among our ranks, Legolas.”

“Undoubtedly,” he replied with certainty in his voice, before getting up on his feet. He looked back at Luthias and Nallien as they were both ready to follow him. “Let’s not linger. Dale is still far and we should expect long negotiations with the Bowman.”

He readied his horse and looked towards the north, to the foot of the snowy mountain.

The company rode fast and were about to separate at the lake. Nallien, Gruvarin and the others stayed attentively for their orders. Legolas took a breath and Solmyr snorted impatiently.

“Tell my father that a menace is coming from the east. There is one of the Men of Rhûn who has betrayed her faction and is currently in the custody of the Lord of Dale.” He paused, then added with more conviction, a smile even brightened his face. “Let him know that his son will honor his duty to the Woodland Realm. No force of evil shall tread these lands and not face the consequences.”

Parting with a solemn salute, the rangers took the western road leading into Mirkwood, while Luthias and Legolas continued on to the north. As the day advanced and the air chilled around them, Legolas kept his senses alert for any followers. What if Morthul wasn’t going to keep his word? What if he had assassins sent his way to catch him by surprise?

But he perceived nothing of the sort, and the gnawing feeling of danger ate at him until nightfall.

 

To be continued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers should bear in mind that my Middle Earth awareness is limited to what I’ve read from the Tolkien Gateway and I don’t remember much Easterling lore from the Silmarillion. In any case, I shaped my writing so that it’s easy to understand the story without knowledge of ancient history or background information.
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> The Tauriel gossiping at the end might seem a bit heavy, and I apologize to Tauriel fans, but I have to make one thing clear: I’ve no intention to retcon the Legolas/Tauriel relationship from the movie. There *was* something there even unrequited feelings on Legolas’s part. However in my story he is rejecting those feelings and tries to learn from the confusion because, given his age and supposed maturity, it would be more in-character of Legolas to regain distance from that whole mess of romance/friendship that wasn’t presented as really healthy...
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> So, thanks for sticking with my fanfic! I appreciate every hit, each Fave/Follow even if that’s not what drives me to write. Reviews would be super welcome... I need criticism, too!


	6. To heal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Easterling prisoner is moved from Dale and her fate is debated among elves of high caliber. Legolas must revise his plans in the light of new information about his captive.

**To heal**

Arriving in the dead of night, Legolas and Luthias proceeded inside the King's keep with the guards opening the iron gates. Aered, the man Legolas had to thank for the horse and armor, unlocked the prison door, his face showing dread as the elves came to retrieve the prisoner.

They'd given her a change of clothes. If not for the spiteful look in her black eyes, the Easterling could be mistaken with any female of Dale. Legolas remembered the force of her kicks and her skill in battle, he could not be fool by the white dress and change of hair. Her long, black strands were now barely reached her jaw line. She still held her side as she sat up from her wooden cot.

"We burned her black garments," said Aered. "If she comes to escape, this would make it more difficult to disappear in the dark."

Nostrils flaring, she drove her piercing eyes into the guard.

"May we have a word with Lord Bard?" asked Legolas, not leaving the assassin from his sight.

"Of course, my Lord."

And Aered left them alone in the ward, save for two other soldiers posted at the entrance. Luthias was perplexed and did not fail to show his skepticism when they retreated to the war room, propping his hands at his hips, yet he kept silent and waited for Legolas to explain himself.

"The company of Easterlings you found by the river," he began, "they said that an assassin had murdered someone important. She escaped from them, and I had previously apprehended that woman near Dale. She is from the Dunlands."

Their attention lingered upon the carved map upon the table, fixating the East and following the river up to Mirkwood and the mount of Erebor.

"How is taking her to them going to prevent war?" Luthias inquired worriedly.

Legolas looked back at his Captain, perhaps too sharply judging the scrutiny. "It was part of the terms for the removal of an enemy camp."

"Apologies, Lord Legolas," he replied, bowing his head slightly, "but I'm missing a lot of details and did not mean to question your judgment."

Footsteps cut short of their conversation. Turning towards the entrance, they saw Bard arriving with Aered in his trail.

"I knew you would return for the prisoner," said the Bowman, "but not with company."

"Lord of Dale," introduced Legolas, "my Captain of the Guard, Luthias. We will require that you relent the Easterling into our custody. I have found a way to dispose of her and, at the same time, cancel the threat of an invasion."

Looking at the elves in turn, Bard parted his lips to speak, then changed his mind before crossing his arms, defensive.

"How so?"

"There is a camp settled in the south, at about two days riding, and the chief there is a man named Orthal. He accepted to return towards the Sea of Rhûn if he retrieves the prisoner. She was accused of killing one of theirs."

Bard turned to look over his shoulder, towards the occupied jail cell, then raised a finger to tap it against his mouth.

"So, she was looking for shelter when she arrived here."

Legolas felt himself lean backwards at the statement but took an insisting step forward.

"Now is not the time for deliberation and judgment calls, Lord Bard. The menace hangs over your people and mine. The longer she remains within your walls, the less time we have to prepare for another attack."

"Unless she admits or confesses to her crimes, I won't trust the word of the enemy. For as much as I know, this woman has done nothing wrong."

"Then I'm grateful you kept her behind bars until now," sardonically retorted Legolas. "I have an agreement with Orthal. The woman goes with us, living or not."

Bard stood his ground for a moment, unmoved by the veiled threat, then bowed his head in feigned submission, stepping aside to allow for Legolas and Luthias to access the prison cell.

"I am doing this for all of our sakes," Legolas added, as Aered was unlocking the door. The woman slowly stood, but moved towards the back of the small room. "In three days I will return the horse and armor."

The hard stare in Aered's eyes did nothing to distract Legolas from his task. Motioning for the prisoner to exit the cell, he saw Luthias prepare a set of restrains. Cuffs of elven steel, forged to be unbreakable. She was looking at them and stayed still.

"Why is she not talking?" softly asked Luthias.

"She has no voice," Legolas flatly answered, taking the restrains. He entered the room without a second's thought and grabbed the woman's arms to cuff her wrists. They were limp and her eyes were fixed on the wall behind him. "All good assassins know how to withstand interrogation, up to a point. She was rendered mute for that reason."

He pulled her by the upper arm and they left the prison ward. She had no voice, no name, no story. Her life was not worth the many thousands he had to protect.

Guarded by the soldiers of Dale, they prepared their horses for the journey and the sun began to rise. People flocked around them, stopping in their tracks to watch the scene of two elves detaining a woman dressed in white, held like a murderer as she was hoisted up the black horse. Legolas heard comments of shock, outrage and pity. One voice was closest, and he turned to see the pale face of a young woman, and her brother standing beside her. Sigrid and Bain, both up and alert, seemed to have come down from the higher levels of the keep.

"Lord Legolas," called Sigrid. "What's going on?"

He let go of the saddle and turned to face the girl. Her face was a mix of confused emotions, but her eyes were hard and passionate. Frowning with regret, he came close to Bard's children and, under their father's watch, gave them a few words.

"Justice needs to be served, everything will be alright."

But Sigrid, every bit as defiant as her father if not more so, raised her chin and balled her hands into fists.

"It was me who cut her hair and gave her that dress. I have spent more time with her than anyone in months. Are you saying that she has to die for something she hasn't done to us?"

Caught off guard, Legolas silently requested support from Bard, but the father only looked back at his daughter with solemn pride. Sigrid noticed the elf's discomfort and spoke again.

"This is not justice." She made eye contact with the prisoner. "You have no idea what she's been through."

Luthias followed her gaze and then lowered his brows, waiting for Legolas to initiate a response. But it wasn't in his experience to ever be questioned by a child, never mind a daughter of men who, barely weeks before had never met an elf in her short life.

"These matters escape your understanding, young one."

"Is she going to die?" suddenly asked Bain, concern on his face.

Preferably sooner than later. Legolas refused to imagine the alternatives. But, standing in the courtyard with so many eyes on him, he couldn't bring himself to admit that the woman's fate wasn't his priority.

"That is not our place to decide," he answered before turning away. Once saddled, he grabbed Solmyr's reins in front of the prisoner and looked down at Bard. "In three days, there will be in peace."

Luthias opened the march and they left Dale while the sun was still low over the horizon. The plains were misty and the air cold and wet. Legolas was glad Sigrid had cut most of the Easterling's hair, as the wind made it flow in front of him and he had to keep his chin up to keep the dark locks away from his face. She was light and rather small, posing little burden as a secondary rider for Solmyr. In front of them, Luthias regularly checked on Legolas, looking over his shoulder as his own horse galloped along the road.

To think that he'd been battling the same person, be it in different garb and at night, seemed like a leap. She made no attempt at dismounting or attacking him, but he felt the metallic restrains against his arms as she tried to hold her midsection. Past midday, Legolas had to lean forward and look at her face to see her squinting. He slowed Solmyr down to a stop and Luthias heard him, coming back on his trail to see what was going on. They were barely passed the old forest road and were surrounded by trees and shrubs.

"What is she doing?" he asked.

Legolas climbed down and helped the prisoner ease off the saddle, half-carrying her towards a pile of rocks upon which she could sit. The ride must have done trauma to her wound. Why hadn't she healed yet? Still holding her stomach, they watched her curled over herself in pain. But her eyes were shut close, even as she panted for air there was nothing they could hear or learn from her condition. Legolas took a knee and hesitantly touched her shoulder.

"Let me help," he softly asked.

Every fiber of his being told him not to fall for the trap. She could very well knock him out with one strike and make a run for the forest.

"Careful, my Lord..." Luthias was standing nearby, his right hand clutching the pommel of his sword.

She stayed in her fetal position for a moment, until she breathed slower and eventually looked up. Tears had fallen from her eyes but she sighed and nodded. She was back up on her feet, first unsteady, then walking normally while still covering her hand over her belly. Before she tried to climb the horse, Legolas stopped her and parted her hand. There was blood on her immaculate white dress. Then her right leg flew and Legolas only found time to dodge the hit. Her form had moved in that glimpse of a second, and even though he still held her arm, she managed to twist herself and elbow him in the gut. He caught her other arm and held her firmly while holding one of his daggers to her throat. Luthias came in front of them with his sword.

"I should have known," warned Legolas. "She's still injured from our first encounter, but we need to bring her alive to Orthal."

Luthias slowly lowered his weapon but still held his position in case he needed to act fast.

"Then she needs a healer. Let us bring her to our halls, Legolas. If she is the key to preserve our lands from war, the King should know about this woman."

"You would bring an assassin inside our kingdom?"

Taking a breath, Luthias raised his attention towards the bright sky, and sheathed his weapon.

"If she is against our enemy, then she's not  _our_  enemy."

"Luthias?" Taken aback, Legolas scrutinized his friend, and reluctantly released the prisoner from his grasp. "Run, and you will regret it."

She tried to stand tall with dignity, but ended up flinching and placing both of her hands on her red-stained stomach. Luthias came over to place a hand on her shoulder blade. When she looked up, his face was that of a caring soldier watching over a scared foreigner. He used words of Rhûn, the language of the East, with a more studied pronunciation that of Legolas when he'd spoken to the guards, days before.

"Don't be afraid, young lady. We will heal you, then you will help us in return."

At a distance, Legolas decided to gather his wits and plan their journey to their new destination. The old road was close, he could smell the western wind through the trees.

"Let's be swift," he called, bringing his horse closer. "We'll have to make up for lost time afterwords."

The woman was whimpering uncontrollably, nestled within the arms of Luthias who stroked her hair and whispered comforting words to her. He nodded at Legolas to signify that he'd heard his directive.

"Will you ride with me?" he told in Easterling.

Legolas hadn't hoped to see the green trees before long. When the road split into two, they could already see rangers posted in high perches above the path. They signaled their arrival and when they approached the gates, they opened on queue. Armored guards stood at attention as Legolas came down from Solmyr, pulling the horse from the bridle.

"Lord Legolas!" saluted one.

"Have our horses fed and rested," he told him, "and call for a healer. We bring a wounded prisoner."

It seemed that barely a few days before he'd brought in the thirteen dwarves through the same gates, inviting the fate of the world to fall upon his father's shoulders and his own. When the horse carrying Luthias and the woman were passed the doors, Legolas turned to give the forest one last look, nagged by the feeling that he was driven too far off his path.

They entered the dimly lit troglodyte halls of the Elven King, immediately tended to by squires. Luthias had one of the woman's arms around his neck and held her waist with his left hand, leading her down a flight of stairs towards the healing ward. Legolas didn't have time to change out of the Dale armor or cloak. His father was already there, standing tall at the start of the path leading to his throne.

"Glad to see you well, my son."

"My Lord," replied Legolas, bowing his head. He waited a heartbeat, then lifted his eyes to meet Thranduil's. "I've come to apologize for what I've done, and what I'm about to do."

His face was as pale as the moon, and tired with sadness and grief. Legolas hesitated to speak, having the impression that his father already knew of his next move.

"Have I not placed my faith in you, Legolas? Do you still doubt your own capacity for good?"

He clenched his teeth and looked away, towards candle lights in the nearest wall of stone. Towards the tree roots that dug deep into the underground. He was back home and hadn't brought back what he'd been looking for. This was premature. Where was Luthias and when could they be gone once again?

"Son?"

He felt more than he saw Thranduil moving towards him. Legolas took a deep breath and dared to face his father.

"You've heard the rangers' report; war is upon us. And I don't think that relenting one fugitive would be enough to stop it. The woman that Luthias brought to the healers is an assassin. She had her vocal cords removed."

Lifting an eyebrow with spiked curiosity, Thranduil turned to walk towards the healing ward.

"What else do you know?"

Legolas shifted his stance, searching his memory. "That she was tortured, the people who took her voice may have been those who made her a murderer." Pausing, he felt a jolt in his heart as he remembered a detail. "Her children were killed by Easterlings in retaliation."

He couldn't see his father's reaction as he had his back turned towards him, but he stopped in his stride and his dark eyes narrowed when he looked over to Legolas.

"You are right," he said with a calm that would chill the entire hallway. "One life is not enough for these people."

Biting his lips with frustration, Legolas turned the riddle in his head before deciding to follow his father down the stairs. Why could he not stay true to his initial plan? What was it that made his will bend under the influence of his father? Was he feeling that guilty?

"We must keep our enemies at bay," Legolas thought out loud. "Using whatever means necessary."

"Yet, one of them is among us as we speak."

They heard singing. One of the healers, Kalindel, a wise and experienced black-haired elf, had started the healing ritual with Luthias watching over the wounded woman. The Easterling was lying on a bed, her midsection bared to allow for healer assistants to clean her wound. Her eyes widen at the sight of Thranduil. He stood at the door frame, observant. Legolas made sure the guards were close by when he entered the room; passing Kalindel, he stopped next to the bed and addressed the prisoner.

"Mark my words, Easterling. If you are to try and deceive us again, I will personally make sure that you do not survive the journey ahead. You want life, do you not?"

Much to his annoyance, she kept her eyes focused on his father, ignoring Legolas completely. Thranduil tensed his neck and ordered his son.

"Leave our healer to her task. There will be plenty more time to uncover our guest's true intentions." He relented his stare from Legolas before turning over to the other elf. "Luthias."

The Captain of the Guard moved from his position at the other side of the room and followed the King upstairs. Giving one last look over his shoulder, Legolas saw the woman with her eyes closed, hands still cuffed while she was being treated.

"The female has much to tell us. And for this reason we will not allow her to leave until she decides to tell us everything she knows."

Sitting in his throne, he laid his authoritative words upon his son and his Captain. No matter what was the matter, Thranduil never failed to capture everyone's attention with his commands. Legolas, as a Prince, could not fathom ever sitting in his place.

"What of the settlement of Orthal in the south? I'm due to return there in two days. They could be preparing their troops to march into Mirkwood."

"I will not spare my son to negotiate with barbarians." Thranduil crossed a leg over the other and tilted his head to one side. "The assassin is part of a group. I am certain. That means the Men of Rhûn are weakened by dissent. They could never go to war with the threat of death upon their leaders."

"But what of the menace of the East, my Lord?" suddenly asked Luthias. "What of the forces that corrupt and agitate the creatures so that they spread towards us? The Easterlings could be no different."

Letting a soft sigh escape his lips, Thranduil let his irritated look wander over to Legolas.

"Was there any sign of vile corruption among the soldiers you met in the south?"

"They were well protected and organized, my Lord." He shared a glance with Luthias and decided to measure his words. "Their chief was confident with his resources. He is assuming that I will not return with my side of the bargain."

"Your bravery was perhaps not all in vain, then." Pausing in thought, Thranduil looked over at Luthias. "Send two rangers to assess the situation at the Sea of Rhûn. If they can confirm that a war is indeed upon us, then we will dispose of the Easterling."

Pinching his lips in retained protest, Luthias bowed his head before turning his heels. He left quicker than Legolas expected.

"Your armor waits for its intended owner," Thranduil added, eying him sideways.

"The people of Dale offered me hospitality," explained Legolas. "I promised to return their belongings once this crisis is over."

"I need you here to coordinate our forces, Legolas." His father's stare softened, so did his voice. "A number of our rangers have expressed their wish to venture south, as you did."

The same way Tauriel had wished to take her fight to Dol Guldur. Legolas added the pieces together and found no way to ignore what ate at his conscience.

"The dangers at our doorstep are the priority," he admitted, "and you just sent two of them to the East, when one of them is already there." He took a few steps closer in order not to speak too loudly. "Tauriel. She said she would travel to the Iron Hills right after the battle of Erebor."

Thranduil leaned forward and slowly raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that we command a banished elf to spy on the enemy?"

Taking a breath, Legolas nodded, hoping not to sound foolish. "This wouldn't make up for her betrayal but it would benefit everyone. She could still be useful to us."

Tauriel had lost everything, and going alone in uncharted lands, to serve her people in a remote way, would be the start to her redemption. She had much to learn and she couldn't be banished forever.

"If she is in the Iron Hills, by herself, then we'll have to task someone to inform her of this new mission. Someone she trusts."

Legolas glared apprehensively at his father. "Trusting is not how I would define my relationship with Tauriel. I have told you of her issues with reliance, and disregard for basic team work in combat."

"You have." Thranduil joined his fingertips together, looking perplexed and somewhat regretful.

"She did fight well, didn't she?"

Feeling his upper lip imperceptibly twist with disdain, Legolas shifted his stance to step away from the throne.

"You asked to know how she fared against the spiders and orcs, my Lord. She fought as you hoped: without a scratch, not missing one target."

Thranduil sat still, unmoving as a statue of himself. If it weren't for his stomach churning, Legolas would have interpreted his father's intentions in an awkward way. Now, he was presented with more hints towards the possibility that Tauriel shared a special, unknown bond with the King. At first, when it was suggested that she was to become Captain of the Guard, he'd assumed that she was gifted and was worthy of his interest. He'd kept supporting her efforts as a ranger, closely observing her skills - too closely. Legolas could see now how blind he had been.

"I did ask a lot from you, my son, and it poorly affected you." Thranduil stood in a smooth motion and climbed down the steps to come to his level. "But I am glad you are back, after all."

Legolas recalled the moment they met in Erebor, and the things he'd told his father in resentment. He returned a look of contained skepticism.

"There is still hope to see Tauriel return, as well. I know you favored her, and she was dear to you. Say the word, and I will seek her out from the Iron Hills."

Thranduil looked back at him with a surprised expression on his otherwise impassive face.

"And rescind her banishment after what she has done to us? What she's done to  _you_? No, Legolas. I won't come back on my decision." Hands joined in front of him, as if grieving, he lowered his tone. "Tauriel is lost but she is not helpless. We must care for those who rely entirely on our protection. That has been and will always be our purpose."

Legolas, bowing his head, relaxed his shoulders and let out a breath in relief. Taking leave of the King, he found his way towards his quarters to change out of his leather armor. Removing it made his mind run wild at the prospect of an unprepared fight, since he hadn't planned on rejoining the safety of his home yet. Once cleaned and changed to his silver scale armor, Legolas noticed a set of drink and food in his suite, next to the window overlooking the underground garden. The royal servants did this every day without announcing themselves, silent and swift as they were. He belonged in the outdoors and they knew it. His own father couldn't hold him within his halls.

Returning to the quarters of Kalindel, he heard voices from behind the concealing draperies. Luthias was speaking to Elros, Master of Keys in charge of the prison ward.

"A Captain of the Guard must abide by his word to lead the guard."

"A cell is not where this woman belongs, Elros. I can appoint Feren to delegate my orders if need be."

Legolas moved in, and found Luthias sitting next to the bed of the recovering woman, seemingly asleep and covered with a silken blanket. Her arms were free from the restrains. Elros stood at a respectful distance, his hard glare in tune with his sharp features and black hair.

"My Lord," he told Legolas. "I've caught word that we had a prisoner inside our borders and naturally I am concerned with matters of security. Are you allowing Luthias to remain at the side of this female?"

She had to be awake, with so much arguing going on in the room. Legolas looked at both of the elves and decided that, either way, they weren't getting answers any time soon. She was still mute.

"Whoever is watching her should provide a way to communicate. Here or in a cell, there's little difference if she won't help us."

"So, it could as well be one of our guards," concluded Elros.

"Anyone as fluent in Easterling as I am, perhaps?" Luthias retorted. "I fought and learned of those people. She is likely to trust me."

Aghast to hear that statement, Legolas only saw the reiteration of Tauriel's demise, and shook his head at the new Captain of the Guard.

"What compels you to abandon your duty for this creature? Have you not seen enough tragedy that you'd risk everything for her?"

Looking over at the Easterling, breathing slowly and peacefully resting, Luthias let appear a serene smile on his pale lips.

"You and I share a common trait, Legolas, but my experience is different." He got up from his seat and retrieved the sword he'd placed in the corner of the room. Then, he addressed the guards outside the door. "Have me warned when she awakes."

Elros was left in the room with Legolas, still mulling over what he'd just heard.

"What is he talking about?" asked Elros.

Without an answer, Legolas steely eyed him and walked out of the room to seek the healer. Kalindel had a work space located a few passageways across the patients rooms, somewhere confined and secluded to concoct her potions. The Sylvan elf was sitting at her desk, writing on parchment with a quill.

"Luthias has been a great help," she eloquently said, only lifting her gaze to him for a moment before returning to her scripture. "Emotional healing is primordial to recovery. And this woman was hurt in ways the eyes cannot see."

"What have you discovered?"

Kalindel looked back at him, coldly and almost aloof when she stood up from her chair, leaving the quill to soak in black ink.

"Nothing that could make your mission easier."

"And what would make it more difficult?" Legolas replied, folding his arms across his chest.

Letting out a sigh, Kalindel mimicked his gesture as if she lacked the strength to keep talking. She had seen much suffering, perhaps more than he ever did since the fall of Gondolin, and he knew she was capable of enduring a lot more.

"When I eased her pain she opened her heart to me and let me know that she didn't want to live to see her captors again. She begged me to let her find her children in death, but I didn't know what to tell her. Will you insist on trading her for peace with the Easterlings?"

"Until we can think of another plan," he sternly replied, "I will still consider the trade as an option."

Kalindel, eyes glossy from tears, looked back at him with great sorrow. She spoke in a sour tone of voice.

"Her name is Ausan, daughter of Athyer, King of the lands beyond the Sea. He is being held against his will by the Men of Rhûn for fighting against the evil of Mordor." She closed her eyes and took a step closer to him. "All of this, she told me in a dream state."

"What you say is everything we needed," Legolas commented, finally having solid information upon which to act. "I must tell my father of what you discovered."

Directing at her desk, she motioned for Legolas to pick up the parchment.

"That is my official report to King Thranduil. I was going to bring it to him before you arrived."

"You're requesting a deployment?" In utter disbelief at reading the letter, Legolas let his brow raise with shock. "The East is an uncharted, treacherous region. An entire company of warriors couldn't pass through unscathed. Let alone one healer."

"It is my decision, Lord Legolas." She gently took the parchment from his hands. "It would benefit all to have one with skills such as my own during a long, difficult journey. How is your left hand feeling?"

Flexing his fingers on the mentioned hand, Legolas remembered the sting of the venomous bite marks, but he retained none of the infection, there were only small scars forming an arc across his palm.

"What makes you think my father would approve of this?" he asked back, challenging her serene dark eyes.

"I do not think anything," she answered, nodding once. "I only know that my King wants what is best for us all. If Ausan's father is still alive we would benefit from an alliance with them."

"And all of this does not strike you as an act of war against the Men of Rhûn, and the forces of Mordor?"

"It is my biggest fear."

She returned to her desk and set down the parchment to add finishing touches. Legolas tilted his head to one side and spoke more softly.

"We lost many of our brothers and sisters, these past days. We're all shaken and afraid. Please do not make any rash decision."

"I only have but one wish," she began, looking up at the view she had of the cavernous canopy, "but I took upon myself to care for this daughter of man, and she is valuable to us. Should we not protect and cherish that which is of value?"

"Of course, Kalindel. Even though I still feel uncertain about this endeavor, I understand your reasoning." He looked for what caught her gaze but only saw the gentle flight of a luminescent firefly passing through. "It would take disobeying our King, and attempting a quest so far away we could very well lose our resolve. You would long for the forest and the sanctuary of home before we reached the sea shores. And when we get there, who knows what else might lead us astray?"

The elven healer took a deep breath then stepped up to him. She stood only as tall as his shoulder, but assumed a presence such as a queen, placing a dainty hand upon his armored chest. That hand could not wield a sword in combat. It couldn't stab a beating heart. It was made for giving life and heal wounds. She spoke with the softest voice.

"Oh, Legolas. So much fear haunts you. Truly, you've become more and more the reflection of your father."

Suddenly disgusted by her interpretation of his words, he pinched his lips, nostrils flaring with anger. With controlled strength, he removed Kalindel's hand and turned around to leave.

"My father hides behind his fears and lost memories. That is not the same."

"No," she agreed, nestling her rejected hand before joining both in front of her. "You are embracing your emotions, and I can feel them making you stronger. It is why you will help me convince Thranduil to approve a mission to the East. Your force is your wisdom, and I will join my own powers to support you and Ausan."

Ausan. His mind still worked to get accustomed to the name. Ausan, daughter of Athyer. He needed to retreat into the history archives and study whatever was known of her lineage. He only knew that Kalindel had her mind set.

"Prepare your things," he murmured. "And I have your word that you are certain of what you know, yes?"

Her face lit up with renewed determination. She handed him the letter.

"I wouldn't tell you these things if there was a shadow of a doubt, Legolas."

Returning to see his father in his chamber, Legolas held the rolled up parchment and paused in the dark hallway. He had a chance not to go through with the plan. He could stay in his home, disregarding the threat of the East, letting Ausan go free and never returning south to face Orthal. But what Kalindel told him made his heart ache every time he thought of his previous intentions. He wouldn't be able to look her in the eyes again after betraying her wish. Luthias wouldn't forgive him once he'd discovered of his decision. And what of Thranduil?

He sat at his table, a half-emptied glass of wine placed in front of him while he read the letter. He turned towards his son in a calculated motion. Whatever resentment or distrust he felt, Legolas perceived neither.

"And what is your opinion of this?" Thranduil asked, a tone of curiosity floating in his voice.

"My opinion?" he repeated, suspicious of what his father expected of him. "I fared south in order to negotiate with the enemy, but with this knowledge I can only revise my plans. There is no way to avoid war with the Men of Rhûn. Whatever advantage we can find, we should take it."

Looking down at the letter again, Thranduil stood and pensively paced around his room. He spoke to himself but loud enough to involve Legolas in his thoughts.

"Athyer is not known to me, nor are the current leaders around the eastern sea. During the Second Age, a Ring of Power was given to Khamûl, king of the Easterlings, and all have bowed before him ever since. No mortal dares to defy him, especially now as a Wraith."

"But we are not mortal," Legolas remarked.

"No," Thranduil acquiesced, pausing dramatically. "That might explain why this young woman found her way among us. I would not underestimate her, Legolas. If she is what she claims to be, it would be wise not to vex her or her kin. Whoever stands up against the evil of Mordor is worthy of respect."

He lost his attention into the dark pond of clear water that lied below.

"And we shall give them ours, even if that means I won't see my son again for some time."

Legolas scrutinized his father's impassible face and moved in, if only to lower his voice.

"I will use caution, and avoid all confrontation. None would trace my steps back to the Woodland Realm."

"Oh, I have no doubt," coldly replied Thranduil, seemingly detached. "My concerns aren't with you, Legolas. I worry more for everyone else so taken with leaving this kingdom."

A King never showed his weakness. Legolas was at loss for words when he watched his father sit in his chair, letting his robe flow gracefully to the grown, and took another sip of wine. Mirkwood had fallen to the darkness, it was a matter of time when the halls of the Elven King would follow suit.

"They crave the forest, the sunlight and the wind," he told Thranduil, trying to sound nostalgic but his voice came out too strong, almost urging. "This world is simply not for them anymore. Sindar, Sylvar... We are elves of the open world, and eventually all will answer the call of the West."

Thranduil returned to him a knowing look that only narrowed into a hard stare.

"When you reach the sea shores, you will feel it, too. Then you will remember what lands you've left behind and never will you wish to return."

"No, Father." Legolas unclenched his jaw muscles and began walking towards the hallway. "I will come back, you have my word."

Thranduil smiled as if he knew something Legolas didn't, and bowed his head with gratitude. In a solemn salute, Legolas held a hand to his heart and quickly turned to leave, stepping along the pathways and arches towards the ground level.

The far lands of the East were weeks away. They would need supplies, sturdy horses raised and trained by elvish standards, and concealable weapons so as to travel unsuspected. He would have to carry a detailed map, and blank parchment for Kalindel to keep records of their journey. Would Luthias come along? He had been a good companion in the past days, though his rank was important to the Kingdom, Legolas couldn't think of a better suited fellow combatant.

_To be continued._


	7. Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas, the Captain, the Healer and the Easterling ride East.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry. Long chapter again. But I guess it's good to have more to enjoy. Don't forget to review!

 

**Company**

He was eager to leave the Elven King's halls, to step out in the sunlight and breathe the open air. Passing the stables, he immediately found Iefyr in his stall, he snorted and shook his mane and Legolas brushed his snout with a calming hand. The squire was Erdiriel, a young Silvan elf who seemed preoccupied with crocheting a piece of fabric. She stood from her wooden stool as soon as he laid eyes on her.

"A party of four will leave for a long journey to the East. Have the horses ready."

"Yes, my Lord. Will the Captain of the Guard be joining you?"

His gaze wandered towards the steps that led up to the healing quarters. Excusing himself from the squire, he investigated the room where the prisoner - Ausan - was still lying, very awake this time. Both armored guards were still at her door and he asked them to step outside a moment.

The woman was half-sitting in bed, her hair had been combed and she looked well even if she had an expression of dread as he approached.

"Lady Ausan," he began, standing upright at the foot of the bed. She furrowed her eyebrows at the mention of her name. "The healer Kalindel and I have discussed your fate. We agreed to journey to the East and come to your father's aid."

She took a deep breath, mouth parting as if she would start to speak. Legolas dearly wished for such magic to operate, but naturally she said nothing. He continued.

"I have changed my mind about contacting Orthal, so you can rest peacefully knowing you will not be traded for a vague promise. Now, we must leave as soon as possible and we'll need you to guide us through the uncharted lands. I will get our tailors to fit you with adequate clothing."

He was already out the door when he heard a hiss, a voiceless breath that seemed to call out to him. When he turned around he saw Ausan standing up next to her bed, a hand on her heart as she bowed her head. Smiling, Legolas did the same to acknowledge her effort.

"Rest well," he ordered. "You will need it."

He heard the slight footsteps of someone coming in from the hallways and turned to see Luthias, at first reprehensible in his stare then worried as he adjusted his attitude.

"My Lord?" he inquired, looking at him then at Ausan.

"I've taken my final decision," Legolas replied, looking at the Captain, then placing a kind look upon the woman. "Ausan's father needs our help, and I am gathering a party to journey into the East."

Brow raised in surprise at the news, Luthias exchanged a silent gaze with Ausan. She seemed perplexed at his lack of reaction.

"My Lord, I..." He stumbled upon his words before forming his thoughts. "My place is here, with my fellow soldiers. I can't abandon the Kingdom for this mission."

"We will need you," intervened a feminine voice, and Kalindel made her appearance. "She will need you."

The healer now wore the practical outfit of the Mirkwood rangers: black and brown to fade in the shadows. Her raven-black hair was adorned with a silver circlet while she wore a pale blue stone ring on her right hand. All looked in awe of her and they failed to notice that she was bringing a second set of changing clothes for Ausan.

Shooed out of the room, Legolas couldn't retain a little smile. Regardless of the time or circumstance, going on an adventure with his fellow elves, his brothers and sisters, was always exciting. He would get to exercise what he was good at: fighting. Even if he'd promised his father he would avoid all confrontation, he couldn't stifle the voice in him that called for the thrill of combat.

On the other hand, Luthias did not look as enthusiastic. Legolas saw him fascinated by the tip of his own boots and he called for his friend.

"Luthias, this is not desertion. We are asking you-  _I_  am ordering you to come with us."

"So I see," he replied, smiling with melancholy. "When you were out in the wild, by yourself, I was the one insisting on accompanying you, Legolas. Now we are even."

"I'm hoping your mind is clear and your heart won't lead you astray, friend."

Returning a knowing look, Luthias nodded, lips sealed. He took a deep breath to regain composure.

"Perhaps my judgment is tainted by some spell," he said quietly.

"The only spell at play here is pride casting shadow over your honesty," corrected Legolas.

Luthias for only retort directed at him a tilted face and a vexed pouting mouth. Legolas chuckled.

"Have you never been fallible yourself, Legolas? Matters of the heart are not predictable, and cannot be controlled."

He felt an urging need to silence the Captain before he would ask more personal questions. Legolas made fists of his hands and narrowed his dark eyes.

"There is a place and time for feelings, but one should know when to act upon them."

There was a scoff as Luthias walked passed him to leave the healing chambers go towards the King's hall. Rolling his eyes towards Kalindel's room, Legolas followed the Captain, brewing his next remark if the occasion presented itself.

He arrived soon enough to hear what Luthias was saying to Thranduil. His father stood at the entrance of the caverns, hands peacefully clasped in front of him while he listened.

"Lord Legolas commanded me to join his party to the East. While I reminded him of the importance that I should remain here, he and Kalindel insisted that they needed me. Still I wish to formally request your permission to undertake this quest."

"You seem to question their decision," replied Thranduil, tilting his head to one side before looking upon Legolas. "A Captain of the Guard knows his place and shouldn't require confirmation to prove his loyalty."

Luthias bowed his head in submission before giving his explanation.

"I have sworn an oath to you, my Lord, though in light of the latest events I would continue serving under your son's command for as long as needed."

Dark blue eyes set on Legolas as they closed in half, almost brimming with tears.

"Do not blame them."

They all turned to where the voice came. Kalindel approached, holding Ausan by the arm, both clad in dark Mirkwood garb. She had done her hair with braids for horse-riding and none could guess that she was no warrior, but a healer. Thranduil let appear a smirk, looking at all of them one by one. Seething at his father, Legolas adjusted his stance to look at Kalindel.

"Are we ready?" he asked in a breath.

"I asked Luthias to be part of this mission, my Lord." She stood up to Thranduil, her pale hands carrying a bag of supplies. "Not only does he have a special bond with Ausan, but he is fit to protect me and your son in our travels. You have nothing to fear."

Thranduil looked down at her, for she was shorter than all of them, and studied Ausan's face.

"My son defeated Bolg, the Orc leader, single-handed, while protecting a band of dwarves and a renegade elf." He paused and breathed slowly, tempering himself. "I see why you would insist on bringing him."

He turned away and left for the path across the halls toward his throne.

"Do not let anything stop you in your endeavors," he added. "Remember your strengths, and your weaknesses. The Silvan Kingdom now relies on you for peace. May you return to us safe and sound."

For the second time, Legolas was relieved to walk from the halls of his father. What warmth, what closeness he had glimpsed in him was definitely gone and replaced by this impalpable apathy dressed in violence.

He rid himself of his armor, the silver scales that marked him as the Prince of Mirkwood, and donned the black threads and leather tunic that some of the rangers wore. He used sharpening stone on his knives and sword, filled his quiver with arrows and watched as Kalindel chose from the blade racks in the armory. Ausan never left her side, and he was wary of her movements. Was she silently asking Kalindel for a weapon?

Legolas sheathed his knives and secured the scabbard to his belt, stepping towards them.

"I'm not sure about this," said Kalindel, as if talking to herself. "I'm a little rusty with a spear."

Ausan pointed at a short sword, keeping her distances. Kalindel picked up one of the blades, measured its weight and began twirling it with her right hand. She then directed the handle to Ausan.

"What's this?" interrupted Legolas, disapproval crunching his face into a grimace. "Sparring lessons?"

Turning around to face him, Kalindel raised a thin black eyebrow and picked up a short sword of her own. Ausan did a few twirls and spins, warming up.

"Do you not trust her with a sword?" she challenged, finding her own scabbard to sheathe her weapon.

He held her enigmatic gaze for an instant before allowing a corner of his mouth to smile.

"I have concerns for our healer when she decides to take up arms on a whim."

Turning away, she picked up her bag of supplies before responding.

"And it is strange to see you wear black. But I think it suits you."

"We shouldn't waste more time before we depart," he told to her back. "We leave at dawn."

Kalindel pulled a hood over her hair and headed for the stables without waiting for further instructions. There, he found Luthias preparing his horse, very much as quiet as Ausan.

"My father does not sit well with dealings outside of the Kingdom," began Legolas, apologetic. "I know that you sought his approval, but taking this path should be your own choice. I would understand if you'd rather stay."

Luthias patted the flank of his steed and gave Legolas a tired gaze. Having his loyalty questioned by is King must have had affected him.

"It was my fault. I felt too proud to admit that I would join you for selfish reasons. Whatever consequence I face, I brought them upon myself."

Marking a time to think over his next statement, Legolas waited for the squire to be out of earshot, then lowered his voice.

"Wanting to keep someone safe and accomplish something good is far from selfish."

"But I can see myself failing at the slightest obstacle," pressingly replied Luthias. "I know that I will eventually pose a threat to you, if Ausan must be sacrificed."

He challenged his distraught friend and stepped in closer.

"It won't come to that. I promise."

They departed the Elven King's halls, four horses carrying three elves and an Easterling, clad in dark attire and equipped to face hostile climates and encounters. Carrying his trusty leather bag, Legolas surveyed the forest left and right, ears at attention for the faint sound of pitter-patter of his canine friend.

He missed the wolf. People drove her away, Legolas reminded himself that it was for the best.

The sun appeared over the horizon, mists covered the lake when they rode its shores, horses galloping steadily. Crossing over the river towards the east, the company stayed clear of the roads and paths, avoiding villages of men and elves.

Leading the party across the hills over the plateau, Legolas could block out the sound of the other horses trotting in his back. He could pretend to be alone in the immensity of the world. Closing his eyes, he felt the soft caress of the cool wind on his face and hear the brewing of a storm. Far ahead, dark clouds hung over the plains, advancing north to cling at the tree line of Mirkwood. It was a sign of winter ending, and the spring season approaching with its warm air clashing against the frost of the north. Rain fell, and soon it poured.

Iefyr began to groan and slow his pace. They were passing over a ridge and surrounded by trees that grew between the rock and rumble. Legolas reassured his horse, using the elvish words that would encourage the steed to keep going.

"What is the matter?" Luthias inquired, himself forced to a halt by his horse. His wet dark hair clung to his cheeks and neck. The other two riders stopped in his trail.

Even the horses seemed to hold their breath to listen to the silence. Legolas threw his hood in his back. For a while he heard nothing but raindrops hitting the leaves, branches, rocks and soil all around him. No bird, no insect made a sound. Legolas dropped to the ground and surveyed the woods, nocking an arrow to his bowstring. He heard Luthias pulling his sword out of his scabbard. Kalindel looked dramatically worried in the rain, ready to turn her horse around.

Aiming towards the trees, Legolas located the origin of a foreign breath. The smell of leather caught his attention and he saw wet patches on the ground. Something moves behind a boulder, a head receding back for cover.

"Legolas," called Luthias in a breath, "two more to the north."

"It's an ambush," hissed Kalindel.

He could now hear the slow steps of assassins moving in towards him and his friends. Leaves pressing on humid soil. The air thickened and his neck tightened with anticipation. He spoke a single command, throwing an icy stare over his shoulder.

"Run."

"My Lord," began protesting Luthias.

But the steps turned into a rapid march and they heard the curved blades being pulled out to attack. Just as the horses ran off, five assassins clad in black, charging on foot with sword and spear, nearing on their position. The elven bow bent and arrows flew while three horses fled the scene at full speed, one masked and red-clad Man of Rhûn slashed at the head by the sword Luthias swung to his side. Legolas quickly switched to his sword to parry an incoming assault to his right, spun to make the Easterling lose balance, opening his midsection for Legolas to swipe and slay him.

The remaining attacker wielded two short swords, longer than his own daggers, and twirled them before leaping with impressive force. Legolas threw himself forward to roll and avoid the deadly lunge. They faced again, this time Legolas already had his bow ready and saw the assassin attacking a figure in red armor. They fought violently, exchanging strikes and injured each other. Both of them were masked but one had brighter skin around his eyes. Aiming low, Legolas shot the Easterling wearing red. The other attacker took that opportunity to slit the man's throat without hesitation.

But the sound of galloping cut short of the fight and they both turned. The elven sword of Luthias cut through the air and the assassin rolled backwards, tumbling and wheeling back up on his feet before using his agility to climb up a branch and up into a tree. Legolas missed a shot, lodging an arrow into wood. Cursing between his teeth, Legolas and Luthias found themselves surrounded by assassins in black clothing. The one they pursued in the tree fell from his perch and joined his comrades. They had short bows, and they had throwing knives. Legolas switched targets and tried to slow his hasty breathing.

"Whatever happens," whispered Luthias, "I will follow you, my Lord."

But Legolas didn't heed his grim words and attempted to form an escape plan. The tree was tall enough to pose an obstacle for arrows and knives. The assassin who was injured by the red-clad Easterling, the one who got down from the tree, walked between the line of enemies, then pulled back his hood and mask. His hair was cut so short he seemed not to have any. Stern eyebrows topped blackened eyes that pierced into whatever he stared. His upper left sleeve was damaged, and the rain dripped red from his left hand.

"The Shadow Brotherhood has no qualms with the Mirkwood Elves," he spoke with a voice that was used to commanding. "Relinquish the female of Rhûn, or suffer the consequences."

"She is gone," Legolas shouted back, still aiming his bow and arrow. "Return from whence you came, assassin. The darkness of Mordor will be stopped. I will make sure of it."

If the leader was killed, others would have to flee. They could attempt to avenge him and Legolas was ready to fight with his last breath if that could save Ausan and Kalindel. They could go on without him and free the people of the East. His heart finally beat steady and calm, and he relaxed his back, looking directly into the black eyes of the leader of the Brotherhood. His expression was that of mild confusion and hope.

"I am Masym, nephew of Athyer." Closing the distance between them, he narrowed his brows. "Where did you send my cousin?"

"If you are her family, you should know she is safe," replied Luthias, his sword ready to defend against any attack. "And you would spare us so that we may continue to protect her."

The one called Masym shot a glare at Luthias, his left hand clenching into a fist, jaw locking tightly.

"You sent her to the East," he said. "Towards death. I should have you butchered and gutted for this."

"And where would you have her?" replied Legolas.

Slowly turning towards his men, Masym nodded imperceptibly and they lowered their weapons. Legolas waited a few heartbeats before doing the same. Luthias reluctantly sheathed his sword.

"We do not answer to Mordor," Masym told them, his eyes focused somewhere behind the tree before boring a hole in Legolas. "The Shadow Brotherhood looks after its own, and none shall stand in its way."

Legolas heard before he saw the blade that extended from the man's right forearm, long as a foot and shining under the falling rain. He hit the tree behind him and couldn't avoid the knife but it didn't go far. A loud clink deafened him as he saw a sword fly inches from his face. The blade then broken, Masym smashed his fist into the wall of bark and growled with rage.

Everyone had their weapons up again and Luthias kicked into Masym's gut to make him roll over, sword raised to execute. Frantically searching the crowd of confused black-clad men, Legolas saw the pale face of Kalindel, and Ausan rushing into battle. None dared to face her in combat and she grabbed Masym by the collar, lifting him off the ground with unexpected force. His eyes were pleading as he steadied himself with her shoulders.

"Ausan," he breathed, then spoke to her in dialect. "Come with us."

Her eyes were looking at her cousin's. She stood shorter but Masym had a look of fear on his face. Gritting her teeth, she pushed him back and let go of him before turning away.

"Your father is dead, Ausan. You have no home to return to."

She walked through the assassins and climbed upon her horse, ignoring what she heard.

"She chose her destiny," Legolas told the man. "And when the realms of Rhûn will be free, you might see her again."

They held each other's deadly gaze before Legolas walked passed him to summon Iefyr. The horse appeared from behind the bushes.

"If she dies," called Masym, "know that I will hunt you down. The Shadow Brotherhood never forgets."

The assassins scattered while Masym put his hood and mask back on.

"If you say Athyer is dead," spitefully asked Legolas, "then what will you do for your people?"

"What we've always done, elf. We watch as the world rises and falls, but in the shadows we are the rulers."

Giving one last intimidating look through his mask, Masym walked away to disappear as did his men. Ausan pulled on the reins of her horse, turning it around impatiently. The rain didn't weaken and they had yet to find shelter for the night.

As the day passed the weather deteriorated and the grass grew sparser over the rocks. Rain fell and the wind stopped, irrigating the lands until the ground became too slippery for the horses to progress safely. The river bed was flooded. Changing route, Legolas found a path farther down the valleys east of the river. Night time came fast under the canopy of the stormy sky, unfortunately coercing them down the path that lead to a village.

"Do you know this place?" Luthias called, bringing his horse up to Legolas, halted on top of a high ground, looking over the faintly lit town. "Men of Rhûn haven't been here yet, there are no guards in the watchtowers."

"This is the town of Ranby," Legolas answered, rain dripping from the edge of his cloak's hood. "I've heard of the Men of Rohan and tribes of the north settling down their camps in small retreats such as this one. We might even find dwarves here."

Luthias clutched at his reins and turned back to look at Kalindel and Ausan catching up.

"Let us hope their hospitality extends to our own kind. We must rest for the night."

Ausan clung at the reins of her horse, anxious and weary of the pace at which they'd been riding. They were soaked from the rainfall and their horses needed the downtime.

They approached the gates and Kalindel pressed on to speak to the single man guarding the entrance.

"We come from a village in Mirkwood," she started, under the puzzled look of the guard. "If you'd be so kind as to lead us to shelter, and a stable for our horses to rest?"

And the man nodded, looking over to the other elves, counting them. His skepticism bordered on suspicion and he stood his ground.

"We don't see much of your kind here. On what business are you?"

"We're merely passing through," replied Kalindel.

"Well, in that case, that'll be four silver pieces."

Scoffing audibly, Legolas grinned, oblivious of the rain battling across his face. He let go of Iefyr's reins to touch the pummel of his sword. Kalindel looked over her shoulder at him, her brown eyes like daggers. She turned back at the guard and searched her belt pouch.

"Here, and two more for your wife and children, noble man."

Mouth gaping at the currency he was given, he granted them entrance into Ranby, indicating the stables and the tavern for lodging. The town looked asleep. The few street fires fought to stay alight on their torches. Leaving Iefyr under a shoddy wooden roof and where the straws were muddy and old, Legolas touched his forehead to the horse's and gently asked him to stay still until he'd be back. Kalindel tied her reins to a post and waited before they left to find the tavern. They walked towards the lodge, a wide wooden construction surrounded by closed shops and small homes.

A window showed the establishment to be open and active. Patrons were inside, drinking and eating peacefully.

"Perhaps we shouldn't make a group appearance," whispered Luthias with his back against the wall. "I should go in alone, pay for a room and have you come in through the back entrance."

"It would be more cautious," agreed Kalindel. "Excellent idea, Captain."

Legolas looked to Ausan. She had her arms crossed in front of her breast, looking distraught and cold under the rain. Elves had better resistance against hostile environments, and they could forget that other kinds lacked their fortitude. Luthias seemed to notice the woman's state and undid his cape to wrap it around her shoulders. Their encounter with the Shadow Brotherhood had taken a toll on them.

"We should all go," Legolas finally decided. "Being fearful only attracts fearful reactions."

Luthias nodded once and pushed the door open. Leading Ausan through, Legolas followed the Captain and Kalindel closed the door behind them. Warmth, smells of hearth, grease and ale hit him. All sounds died as eyes were drawn to them suddenly. Swiftly scanning the room for possible hostiles, Legolas was surprised not only to spot several dwarves, but elves as well among the men. They held his gaze for a moment, then returned to their low-key chatting and eating dinner. Merchants, Legolas assumed. Their attire was refined, practical but ornate with leaves, flowers and other intricate designs.

The owner was a woman who came out of the kitchen to stand behind the counter. She wiped her hands in a stained towel and raised her chin at the new clients.

"Welcome to Ranby, strangers," she called, sizing them up with her tired look. "I'm Warda. What brings you lot here?"

"Thank you," replied Legolas. "We're passing through on our way to the East... We'd like to purchase shelter for the night."

"For all of you?" Warda let her eyes trail towards Ausan. "Room's tight. I'll have to shack you up together in the attic. Please... sit, dry out near the hearse while I prepare the linens. You all look like a wet mess."

Kalindel consciously pulled a stray lock of hair behind her ears and nervously looked at Legolas. His own was matting in his neck and he wasn't going to mind his appearance when their safety was in line. Looking over at the other elves he'd spotted earlier, he found their table vacated. Their ability to smoothly blend into the shadows must have come handy when he'd spoken to the tavern owner.

She came back to bring them a pitcher of water and loafs of warm bread rolls while they waited at the table they'd claim for themselves. The rest of the patrons went back to their conversations and meals. He heard the vague reports of dead comrades fallen at the battle in Erebor and Dale. Questions were asked about the profit to be had from dealing with elves. Comments were made about the appearance of the King of Mirkwood. Legolas ignored the gossiping and casually munched on a small piece of white bread, staring idly at the unique window towards the street.

"It's known that Silvan merchants travel the free lands, doing commerce with the descendents of the Avari," remarked Luthias, half-voiced and his eyes looking at nothing in particular. "I did not expect to see any around here."

"We're not so far yet," corrected Kalindel. "We had better keep our intentions to ourselves. Word would spread of the tensions and commerce could be affected. This may fuel conflict and our efforts would have been for nothing."

"Lower your voice, Kalindel," Luthias pressingly whispered.

Her dark, hooded eyes bore into Luthias and he lost his composure.

"Luthias, son of Morthil, I will have your ears filled with the mud from my boots if my voice is not to your liking."

Legolas felt himself amused as the Captain was left speechless in front of their healer. Kalindel had the most melodious voice, and her chant was that of magical powers that could give life back to the dying, provided she spent enough time and effort. Luthias dared not share his opinion again as they sat at the table, waiting for the tavern lady to return.

When she did her attention was driven towards Ausan, who'd spent the better part of the evening moving as little as necessary, hair covering her small round ears even though her face was different from that of the elves she was journeying with.

"Your room is ready," said Warda. "If you should stay more than one night you'll need to pay in advance."

Legolas rose first from the bench and the other mimicked him.

"Thank you, Warda. We won't take more of your time. Just this night will suffice."

There was an uncomfortable lull in the exchange as she looked up at him before looking at Ausan again. Warda took on an expression of concern before nodding sharply and leading them upstairs. The attic was at the third floor, and Legolas had to slouch so as not to hit his head against the low beams. Two small beds were setup at either side of a stove. There were additional rolled up beds on the floor and the next room had a small table and two chairs next to a window.

"I hope this will suffice. Again, I apologize for the minimal setting."

"It's more than adequate," answered Legolas as he went directly to the window, parting a dusty curtain to check the street below. "That'll be all for now."

Kalindel handed a few pieces of silver to Warda and she smiled gratefully before bowing out. There were two oil lanterns next to the door and window sill and Luthias picked one up to turn it off. Ausan sat on a bed, turned to the stove to stay warm.

"Rest now," Kalindel told her. "I will continue aiding the healing process while you sleep."

Ausan turned to her and motioned for the satchel she was carrying, slung across her shoulder. Once she received it, the woman pulled out a folded up map and laid it across the bed. Searching, she ran a finger across the parchment, following the coast line of the Sea of Rhûn before going further east, then south where it stopped. Then, she pointed at her heart and looked up at Kalindel. She motioned towards a different spot, this time closer to the sea and just north of Mordor. Legolas felt his stomach knotting as he came closer, imprinting the location in his mind. Ausan looked up at both him and Kalindel and mouthed the word "father".

"I can plan a safe route," suggested Luthias, removing his armor plates one after the other. "We could avoid the forward posts and watchers of Rhûn by going along the Ash Mountains."

"But that's so close to Mordor," worriedly observed Kalindel. "And it would take so long."

Ausan pointed at the sea, insistingly rubbing her index finger across the surface, then made rowing movements.

"Sailing?" Luthias interpreted, eyebrows raised. "I wouldn't know how, or where. But I'd feel more confident by foot and on the ground. Meeting the Easterling fleet would be suicide."

Pouting her lips, Ausan frowned and swept the map away in frustrated protest. Kalindel caught it before it fell to the floor and touched her hand.

"We will find a way through," she told her. "For now, please ease your mind. Let me continue the ritual, I promise you will feel better in the morning."

As the night advanced and the rain weakened, Legolas was left to guard his company while they slept. Using the remaining lantern, he reviewed the maps and memorized the lines Luthias had traced for possible passages into the land of the Easterlings. Legolas was familiar with the Ash Mountains in the south, what predators and foes they were home to. Following the north limit of Mordor would take at least a week if they didn't have to stop or do battle. Ausan's suggestion to cross the sea was smarter, but he knew nothing of the fleet of Rhûn and being on a vulnerable ship did not appeal to him.

Kalindel appeared into the room, having shed part of her clothes to let her tunic dry near the warm stove, she pulled a sheet of linen to wrap it around her bare arms. Her squinting eyes looked back at Legolas and she yawned sleepily before getting up to sit near the window with him.

"You shouldn't be up yet," he quietly said. "The last healing ritual took a lot from you, I heard your shortness of breath."

She eyed him sideways in a skeptical manner. When he noticed her black hair in complete disarray Legolas couldn't retain an endeared smile.

"I am trying to restore her voice," she explained.

Legolas first believed she was making a fool of him. Then revised his opinion as she looked obviously troubled.

"Is that even possible?"

"To some extent. I can't promise anything." Her sleepy eyes wandered across the maps. "Are you going to stand guard until dawn?" she replied.

"I feel quite rested," Legolas responded, allowing her to see what the maps upon which he was working. He turned the parchment on the table and she leaned forward. "I've traced the path south of the sea, through the mountains. The north side would have more Easterling presence, but none would suspect anything coming from Mordor."

She fixed a lock of rebellious hairs behind her ears and placed her chin into her palm.

"I'm not enthusiastic about Mordor."

"You wanted to see adventure," he tauntingly murmured. "Did you not?"

"Maybe I am a bit spent, and realizing now that I haven't anticipated the actual dangers in this travel. But Ausan suggested going by sea..."

"We could, if she's absolutely sure that we'd find a safe port once arrived at the shores. She did point at the lands of her people, if that's an indication of help we might have to travel there, first."

"And then, the north road is the quickest," she remarked, pointing at the other side of the sea. She removed her hand to place it under her chin again, thoughtful. "But we don't know about the enemies that could hide anywhere. The Shadow Brotherhood... What if they're right? We may run into a trap."

"Only one way to find out."

Legolas leaned back in his chair and looked out the window. Rain had finally stopped pouring and there was complete silence, barring the rhythmic dripping of water in the house's gutters. He would have anything else to converse with, even the creaking sounds of the tavern sign, instead of talking to Kalindel at that moment.

"I've missed hearing the rain," she suddenly said, having followed his gaze. "The cavern's rivers aren't the same back home. And I remember now how I loved the wind, and the sun."

As if reacting to an imaginary breeze, she wrapped the bed sheet more closely over her pale skin and her tired eyes met his, for the shortest instant. She looked down and put on a somber face before looking to the bedroom, hearing a sound of ruffling fabric and that of a body turning itself upon a mattress. Ausan was there, sleeping soundly while Luthias lied on the floor.

"Do you think Luthias would ever be happy?" she softly asked. "That we'd cross these lands and surely return his love where she belongs... never to go to him, or grant him a single word that might bring him peace of mind."

"Who are we to know what he would want?" replied Legolas, baffled that she would so easily recognize the feelings of his friend.

"Elves don't find love easily, Legolas. We both know this, otherwise we'd have very different lives. We are not like men. And she is not like any of us."

"It pains me to say that I saw this coming, and that I would disapprove of a such union." He idly folded the map and tidied the table. Kalindel, patient, looked at his hands as he did so. They moved steadily, looking large compared to hers. "But I am not Luthias, and Ausan may be unable to speak, but she has a right to choose as well. He knows nearly nothing of her."

"So you're saying that love should be controlled."

"Love is a feeling. Choices shouldn't be made on a feeling."

He wanted to blame his father for not completely understanding where Kalindel was going with her reasoning. Legolas also wanted to no longer be at odds with the common tradition that an elf should marry and find eternal love. He knew what love was, how it felt and what it made people do when they were heartbroken.

"Will you simply choose a spouse without love?" Kalindel asked him, and he realized he'd been silent for an extended moment. "Or will you wait for someone to choose for you?"

Huffing with bitter mockery, Legolas shifted in his seat, defying her stare.

"If I did not take a spouse, what then?" He took a long breath and tried to spot any stars in the night sky. "In my thousands of years I've felt completeness and joy without the presence of a companion."

"I understand you," she told him, then directed her attention to the window. "There is love and peace to be gained from all kinds of things. They don't always have to be shared. Sometimes, moments like these are enough for me. I appreciate the time you're allowing me to spend with you."

He was relieved that she did not contradict him, and the quiet moment made him feel uncertain of his own position in the debate. He himself wondered what it would be like to feel the warm embrace of a loved one. To provide and be given physical comfort but made no display of those thoughts.

"It is a lonely life, but that is the price to pay for anyone devoted to a cause."

She calmly held his gaze and smiled lightly. "And what do you seek, Legolas?"

"Peace," he said after a moment. "I would have peace only when the wars are over. I would give my life for it."

Frowning, she extended a hand across the table, palm up. Hesitant, Legolas touched it and she firmly held his hand.

"Then I will see that we wouldn't come to that any time soon. This is my promise."

She was warm and soft though strong until she relinquished her grasp. He nodded gratefully, troubled that his resolve was diminished now that someone else weighed in on his quest.

"When Masym used his concealed blade to attack me," he began, "your sword flew across my face. I hope that wasn't a lucky accident."

Rolling her eyes up, one hand over her lips as if stifling a laugh, Kalindel almost shrugged as she shifted her posture. "It was deliberate."

"When was the last time you even held a sword?" he worried, unable to calm the beating in his chest.

"Now, Legolas," she retorted, taking on a vexed expression. "Are you questioning my training?"

"I am if it means relying on you during combat." He sneered. "But you will have to rely on it yourself."

Pulling her cloth tighter around her neck, she blinked and looked like she stifled a yawn.

"Then I apologize for making you doubt," she replied. "I've been too long secluded in the halls of our King. You surely know how that can feel after a while."

Chuckling at her raised eyebrow, Legolas watched her get up and excuse herself as she head back to bed.

Kalindel found sleep again until dawn, and everyone woke before the tavern was alive with doors opening and closing downstairs, kitchen sounds of pots and pans, footsteps on the wooden lats. They ate a piece of lembas, collected their dried clothes and prepared to retrieve their horses. It had stopped raining and the sky was clear. Back in his silver armor, Luthias looked eager to get riding again, preparing every mount, cleaning their coats and hooves of the stable mud. As he disposed of feeding buckets, Legolas handed him a rag to wipe his hands.

"Luthias, friend. A word?"

The brown-haired elf returned a complicit look to him, lifting a corner of his mouth before accepting the rag to clean his hands of the dirt and grime.

"Certainly, my lord." He took a breath and shook a lock of hair away from his face. "Forgive my rudeness, but I heard you and Lady Kalindel talking last night."

"Oh," Legolas looked down, furtively throwing a glance at the healer behind him. "I'm sorry if we kept you awake."

"No need to apologize. Legolas... Ausan spoke to me, in her ways. She..." he interrupted himself, and turned towards the back wall, averting his eyes from the street. He continued in a murmur. "She and I shared a moment. What I feel for her is unlike anything I've felt before. But when the time comes for us to part, I won't let it affect my decisions." He turned again, this time to look right into her eyes. "I simply want to do what's right."

Legolas no longer felt the menacing panic he used to experience at the mention of their relationship. Breathing calmly he stood with his shoulders relaxed and paid no mind to the ladies watching when he spoke to Luthias.

"I am glad that you tell me this, and I trust you, Luthias. But keep in mind that she is the daughter of Athyer, and might be influential to her people. Whatever  _this_  is, not all may approve of it."

Luthias nodded, still smiling even though his eyes showed more confidence than he'd ever seen in the past days.

"I appreciate the advice. Thank you, Legolas."

They brought the horses out of the stable and rode on towards the East. Ranby was behind them when they crossed a small bridge that lead to a crossroad. The shade of a forest made the rising sun bearable for the untrained eye. They paused when Luthias slowed his horse, turning his head from a side to another in suspicion. Legolas caught up to him.

"Another ambush?" he hissed, unable to sense what alerted his friend.

"Look." Luthias pointed at the ground to reveal fresh tracks in the muddied path. "When do you see wolves wandering early morning out on the open road?"

Kalindel arrived with Ausan. She squinted her eyes in the red rising sun, and seemed unable to see what they were studying.

"Are we lost?"

"No, my Lady," chuckled Luthias. "Merely speculating on possibly making new friends."

"The Shadow Brotherhood was not so friendly," she remarked.

"Agreed."

Legolas advanced Iefyr passed the crossroad to find a different perspective. Kalindel riveted her eyes on him, expecting him to make a decision.

"Whatever that is awaiting us," continued Luthias, "we will be ready for them."

Waiting for him to take the lead, Legolas followed Kalindel and rode last, keeping his wits about them. The woods weren't dense but there were ditches and mounds that could hide anything apt to lunge at them. Kalindel's brown horse slowed its pace and she looked over her shoulder, reaching his level. While worried that he was now unable to see the left side of the road because of her, Legolas bit his lips to avoid frowning at the healer.

"I want to see what you see," she said, a genuine interest rang in her voice.

"Welcome to the back of the line," he retorted, regretfully. He wanted to be alone in order to spot the wolf. "I haven't had the chance to ask you how you slept."

She snapped back at him with an interrogative glance before looking ahead.

"I had a dreamless sleep. It happens, sometimes. Perhaps fatigue made me forget. Now, will you tell me what you're looking for?"

She held her reins loose and focused her entire attention upon Legolas. He saw Luthias and Ausan gaining distance ahead, trotting side by side.

"I've not been completely alone since Erebor," he said while he observed Kalindel's reactions. "I am being followed by a wolf that I rescued from an orc camp. She comes to me in desperate times." He paused, smiling to himself. "I find comfort in knowing that she is still near, watching over me."

Smiling almost twice as much as he did, Kalindel spoke no word, and took her turn in gazing along the dirt path, listening quietly. They rode together in silence, and Legolas finally heard the soft echo of canine paws coursing through the woods.


	8. The south

The hills of Dorwinion shone in the setting sun, overcast by the shadow of the eastern peaks of the Rhûn mountains. To the south, the Uldona streamed downhill to join Celduin in the north. Legolas took in a last sight of the lands they were leaving and climbed the rocks that would give him a better vantage point over the east. The sea was now the horizon, of a deep blue enclosed between cliffs and mountains, and the forest of Rómen far away. The salty air reached his nostrils, he could hear gulls calling in the wind, and waves crashed against distant cliffs. A chill ran down his spine. When his turn would come to take to the western shores of Valinor it would be the end of his journey in Middle Earth and everyone he’d known.

If he even made it to that point. His attention drew closer on the Brilthen river. They were still a long march away from that point. There, he could see a port and an anchored ship.

Silently, he sensed someone climbing to his position but the presence was familiar. Ausan had a way of moving that was almost feline, especially now that she was healed and stood up straight. It was the first time she would intentionally come near him ever since their first encounter outside Dale. He had stabbed her, Legolas reminded himself. Looking at the horizon, she pointed a finger at the far away river of Brilthen. Legolas found a narrow path along the stream as he followed her gesture. His long-distance vision made him notice movement of trading carts towards the port.

“We couldn’t take a ship,” he told her calmly. “It is too exposed for a band of elves and a fugitive assassin.”

Ausan pulled a black strand from her eyes in the wind and peered into him with her black stare. Legolas didn’t budge.

“We will go through the mountains and take the path south of the sea. That way we’ll reach your people, unnoticed.” At her defiant expression, he added. “You are still under my command and protection, no matter what we may discover about you, Lady Ausan.”

Turning away, she let out a sigh so deep a slight tone rang in her breath. Stopping dead in her stride, both looked at one another in utter surprise. Reaching for her neck, Ausan felt for her throat and tried sighing again to hear her own voice. This time, nothing but air came out. Hands trembling, Ausan’s eyes were brimming with tears and she fled from Legolas’s reach, climbing down the rocky hill towards the campsite.

He followed and called for Kalindel. The healer was sitting in the shallow cavern, tying pieces of fabric together. Her attention went straight to Ausan who was tapping her throat and signing with her open mouth, wide-eyed and breathing rapidly.

“Calm down,” told Kalindel, grabbing her shoulders to sit. “Let yourself rest, relax.”

“What is wrong?” asked Luthias, who had made a bed of moss and branches in a corner. He came close and knelt in front of Ausan. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head and appeared to ease her tension. Her next sign gesture was clear and Luthias smiled.

“The healing process is not complete,” explained Kalindel. “She mustn’t strain herself or else her new voice could become damaged.”

“Do you hear this, my Lady?” Luthias comfortingly said, removing one glove to hold her hands. “Give yourself time and you will be singing your favorite songs when you are back among your kin.”

Her fingers clutched at his and she smiled, letting her tears roll down her face. Kalindel reached into her satchel and handed her a small green vial that Ausan took with care and drank from it, a little at a time as she winced.

Watching over his companions from the outside of the cave, Legolas adjusted the attachment of his scabbard to his belt.

“We follow the Uldona river into the region of Eorstan,” he reminded them, insisting on Luthias. “Hostile men might be found there. And even orcs.”

Luthias got to his feet and peacefully put his glove back on, looking down.

“Then we should get some exercise to prepare for the dangers ahead.”

Ausan and Kalindel followed him out in the open. Luthias assumed a fighting stance, sword out but held low as Ausan unsheathed her own sword and twirled it once, directing the tip forward. Her lips formed a smile when Luthias nodded slowly, never losing eye contact. Kalindel watched next to Legolas as they began sparring. The sound of clashing iron blades could be heard from afar, echoing in the valleys below.

The Easterling showed a feline grace in her movements, parrying before giving swift counter-strikes. Quickly adapting to his opponent, Luthias looked clumsy with his longer sword, having to look both ways before knowing where to put his defense. Each of his attacks were anticipated; Ausan looked like she was handling two weapons instead of just one, arching her back, twisting herself to avoid the adverse blade, then shifting her balance to roll, leap and reaching her target. Luthias let out a silent cry and stopped to look at his left elbow. The dark fabric was cracked, just above the leather gauntlet, letting his bloodied pale skin show through the cut. Panting, Ausan was ready to keep fencing, the tip of her sword directed towards his impressed face.

“Evidently, you are in no need of training,” he admiringly commented. “Take a breath, my Lady. I’m confident you will have plenty of exercise down the road.”

Kalindel moved forward with a small patch of linen imbibed in athelas oil to treat his wound. Thanking her, Luthias studied the healer and moved his focus towards Legolas. Holding his breath, Legolas kept his shoulders braced to remain calm in appearance.

“What about you, Lady Kalindel? Aren’t you eager to test your skill in combat? I would hate to see you come to harm.”

“We haven’t much time for sparring, Luthias. Rest up and gather your strength. I know I will feel quite safe once we are ready to keep going.”

She closed her satchel and turned to walk back towards the cave while Ausan sat on top of a boulder, looking at the setting sun in the west. Left were Luthias and Legolas, standing in silence until either one of them would voice their concerns first.

“I will stand watch, this time,” assured Luthias, his brown eyes earnestly glaring at him. “I sense there is something you wish to tell me.”

Taking his eyes away from the dark horizon in the east, Legolas took on a reassuring tone when he replied.

“Only that I fear what we might find, Luthias. Those aren’t friendly lands we are about to visit.”

“I’m aware of that, we all are.”

“Confrontation will have to be avoided if we want to make it through to the Dunlands. We are not a company of spies, or a brotherhood of assassins.”

If she had heard his words, Ausan did not make a point of turning towards him. She remained in her position, calmly resting. Luthias stepped closer in direction of the top of the hill.

“Our mission is still important, Legolas. We aren’t only doing this for Ausan. Had Kalindel not requested it, we would still be in the King’s halls, counting the days until the next war.”

He patted his shoulder as he took his turn on top of the rocky mound. Legolas resigned himself to linger in the darkness of the cavern, sitting beside Kalindel as she braided her strands of fabric. It was a section of a dress or cape that she kept around her waist as a decorative belt.

“It was the only thing I found to occupy my hands and mind,” she explained, unprompted. “The quiet does no good to my worrying.”

Looking at her nimble hands expertly work with the piece of garment, Legolas clasped his own hands while crossing his feet, having lost track of what he was going to say.

“I would have you worry,” he began, “rather than seeing you fall in battle.”

She didn’t veer her attention from her work. “I wouldn’t want to spar with you, Legolas.” She smirked at him. “That doesn’t mean I’m going to die. Fear is not an indication that doom is near.”

“I’m not afraid,” he chuckled in protest. “Simply concerned for your safety, and our quest.”

Letting her braid rest on her lap, she looked ahead and the sky was dark enough to have stars shining brightly.

“When I was in a dream state, I felt a connection with the unknown. A link that passed through Ausan towards me. Days, weeks from now, we will find what we seek, we’ll know what to do.” Kalindel gave Legolas a stare from the corner of her eyes. “I still worry that I may not be strong enough to face what will come. But that burden is my own to carry.”

“You speak in riddles, Kalindel. Should I suspect that you know more than you let me?”

Raising her chin with attempted serenity, she replied on an even tone.

“And if so, wouldn’t it be in our best interest to have you confidently leading us through this journey?”

“You doubt my capacity to handle your concerns?”

Her lips shut and she lowered her brow. “You’ve had a lot on your plate, lately.”

She raised herself up to walk down the hill. Legolas caught up to her and she wouldn’t slow down, even as he called her name. He caught her arm and she stopped, muscles trembling in his grasp. They were far from the camp site, almost in the grassy part of the mound, and the sky was completely dark despite the many stars. Still, Legolas could see her troubled face quite clearly. It didn’t look as calm and collected as he thought.

“Something troubles you, Kalindel.”

“I will give you answers, then,” she whispered in defeat. “Where we are going, there will be no help, no remnant of freedom, just absolute despair. Whether I can fight or not is irrelevant. When we are going to find Athyer, there will be an enemy far stronger than you’ve ever fought.” She caught her breath and continued even more quietly. “The late King of the Easterlings, Khamûl.”

The wind seemed to come to a halt and his heart was the only sound for a mere second. But Legolas had heard of the tales of Dol Guldur, the Second Leader of Sauron present there known by that calling, or by the ancient name of Khamûl. People in the outskirts of Mirkwood told tales of a black rider, sometimes by horseback, sometimes by air with a terrible winged creature. He’d assumed it was a mere legend meant to scare children into behaving well.

“Are you sure?” he asked Kalindel. “The Nazgûl?”

“I wouldn’t be mistaking him for another Khamûl. His tall, dark and nightmarish presence has haunted me ever since Ausan arrived in our home. I couldn’t explain it to you. Healers have a varying grasp of the ethereal world, sometimes we don’t understand it ourselves.”

Legolas hesitated, unnerved by the thought of a Ringwraith being involved in his quest.

“Is he... watching you, right now?”

“That’s not really how it works,” she replied, sadly chuckling. “Who knows what the enemy does in the darkness? Thinking of this makes me doubt myself, and I fear for our safety every moment... But Ausan needs our help to free her people.”

“You carry a heavy burden,” Legolas told her, walking the distance between them and patted her shoulder for courage. “I’m glad you could share it with me.”

She wiped a tear from her face using the outside of her palm, lips closed tight as she looked away.

“I’ve only read about the sorcery of Mordor but there was nothing written about the despair or helplessness one feels when going near it.”

Her eyes kept checking over his shoulder, watching out for Luthias or anyone else who could be listening. Following her gaze, Legolas attempted a confident smile to alleviate her momentary grimness.

“We can still fight this. You can show that the light prevails over the darkness. You bring eternal life, and death has no power over you.” He painfully contained his own sorrow as he spoke to her. “Everyone will be tested in the days to come.”

Nodding in agreement, she held her mouth shut and continued drying her face with her fingers. Empathy made Legolas feel his own eyes swelling and his blood ran warmer through his veins.

“Come on,” he invitingly told the healer, leader them back to the camp. “I think there is a flask of wine in my bag, the one that my father likes when he’s feeling extra kingly.”

He joined Kalindel as she let out a burst of laughter whilst walking up the hill.

*

Before dawn they gathered and left the camp, cautious not to leave tracks behind them aside from the hoof prints. The mounts drank at the banks of the Uldona before trotting east, in direction of the mountains. The path narrowed in tall grass, and through woods and evergreens the sun rose. The only encounters they made were deer and boar taking advantage of the morning dew to find food and water.

The road crossing the forest went directly south along the lower chain of mountains. It was sinuous and riddled with thorn bushes, slowing their passage. Legolas stayed at the end of the procession and kept a keen eye around him as they progressed too slowly for his taste. At one point, the brambles were so thick, Luthias had to step down and deal with them with his sword for the rest of the horses to make it through. Bow ready, Legolas stood guard still riding Iefyr. Then, they heard that distinctive sound.

“Spiders!” he hissed, and brought Iefyr to turn around, letting him huddle up with the other horses in a protective circle.

There was a muted whistling sound that always came along with oversized predatory insects, because it was the way by which they breathed, and their multiple hooked legs made no sound when they approached at great speed. They looked like spiders butt their heads were much smaller. Their bodies flatter.

“Blood suckers!” exclaimed Luthias. “Don’t let them grab you!”

Blades flurried and swung, severing brown skeletal limbs and piercing abdomens, spewing a river of foul blood. Arrows hit their targets, three, then four, at the center of the beasts which crawled and died, vomiting more sickening liquid. The horses pranced and whinnied in panic. Legolas sensed their fear and fought hard not to let any blood sucker come remotely close to the animals. They were defenseless against the arachnids. He stretched his neck to cover all angles of the passage, switched to his sword to cut through brownish red limbs and heads. His quiver was already half empty. Red and greyish goo dripped from his blade when the last of the blood suckers was down.

A second wave of blood suckers arrived, Legolas readied his next arrow and aimed at their tiny heads, designed to dig deep into the flesh so as not to waste one drop of blood. They moved slower than spiders, but the bigger ones appeared to have more energy. Again, each dead beast created more toxic fumes from its bleeding and it was making the horses agitated.

“We need to move,” he warned Luthias, standing back to back with the Captain.

Looking to his side he knew that Ausan was dealing with her own targets, always staying clear of danger, while Kalindel was only giving a few slashes here and there, defensive until Luthias or himself would kill the blood sucker that would attack her. Once they were sure no other would arrive next, they all mounted up and left in a hurry. The horses whined and complained but still galloped through the overgrown brambles.

“Courage, my friend,” Legolas told Iefyr, a tight hold on the reins. “We’ll tend to you once we are safe.”

The forest seemed calm in the sunlight, and they stuck to the clearings and apparent pathways. Legolas dismounted as soon as they slowed and inspected Iefyr’s bloodied legs. Kalindel came to his aid with her satchel.

“You will be fine,” he said and patted the horse’s flank, then to Kalindel, “how much more athelas oil can you spare?”

The healer looked up at him, knelt down to rub the ointment on the open wounds.

“I can make enough for a week if I can’t salvage any.”

“Good,” he said, trying to smile but something ate at him when he thought of the confrontation with the insects. “We have until night fall to be done with these woods.”

Luthias was on his feet as well and inspected his map while the horses were being treated. With his charcoal pencil, he placed a cross on the wooded region of Eorstan and wrote “blood suckers” as a notice.

“For our return home,” he told Legolas. “If we ever forget. Always encourage alternate routes.”

“We couldn’t have anticipated this.”

Returning a stern gaze at Legolas, Luthias nodded sharply. “There will be worse.”

Leaving the Captain to work on their strategies, he rejoined Iefyr and shot a quick look at Kalindel while she gathered her medicinal remedies from the ground. Ausan looked at her as well, patting the flank of her horse now that it was relieved of its pain. Legolas came to Kalindel and helped her up. She had dropped a ritual parchments and herbs from an open pouch. Her hands were shaking, unsteady as they picked up the items. Legolas had seen soldiers go through similar states of confusion and weakness after their first encounter with death.

“There will be a few changes around the school of healing, when we return,” he told Kalindel. “Mandatory combat training and conditioning, to strengthen those nerves and steel that heart of yours.”

“Thank you for the support, Legolas.” She got to her feet and climbed up on her steed. “Let us not linger here should we cross more hostile lands.”

Their gazes met when Legolas could read her knowing expression mixed with sadness.

“We can make it to the southern peaks by tomorrow, if we hurry,” Luthias informed them.

Legolas saddled up and waited until all three were ahead of him before giving a last look in his back, wishing for the thorns and brambles to close in on the lurking predators.

The next section of forest took them to a climb up the flank of the mountains. The trees grew more sparse and the air was damp. When the horses dug their hooves in the humid ground, the steps echoed in the distance.

A deeper, much deeper echo. It wasn’t a mere horse that made that sound. The company slowed to a halt in complete silence, even the birds had stopped chirping. The footsteps they heard were so heavy, even distance didn’t keep the ground from vibrating.

“The horses are agitated,” worried Kalindel, growing nervous.

“Trolls,” Luthias suspected. “Maybe ogres.”

“We can’t run,” advised Legolas. “In these mountains, against such monsters we can only hide. The horses must leave.”

Their scent could be picked up miles away unlike that of elves. They dismounted and instructed the horses to return to safety. Following their instinct and their training, they went after Iefyr who had grown accustomed to this habit. Now on foot and sensibly slowed down, they formed a line and continued their climbed towards the east, hoping to follow a path into the valleys undercover of the woods. Holding his bow, Legolas closed the march along the steep hill, all senses alert. Trolls were big, but in their natural habitat could very well sneak up on their unsuspecting prey. Luthias lead the company towards dryer parts of the mountain, higher in altitude and where trees grew shorter, their trunks and branches twisted instead of straight.

“It sounds like we passed their lair,” told Luthias, turning towards the valley in the north. “Legolas?”

“Nothing so far,” he agreed, yet remained skeptical. He climbed up to his level. “They lost track of us.”

“Let’s not give them more reason to come back around.” Luthias went on walking, checking up on Ausan and Kalindel. “Shall we make haste? The southern valley is near.”

Cutting through the dry riverbeds and reaching the southern path was the quickest way to the east. Ignoring his doubts at each twist and turn, Legolas followed the company downhill, taking no time to appreciate the verdant riches of the woods. The southern climate was much warmer than he’d expected, and soon he felt light dust stick on the skin of his neck and face. He caught Ausan clipping off one section of her collar for air. Her forehead was glistening with perspiration, as humans did when they were feeling too warm. Their bodies produced a smell and it was conspicuous among a group of elves.

A chilling roar thundered all around them, freezing the company into place as they all pulled out their weapons. Legolas bent his bow and located the origin of the furious cry behind them, into the mountains.

“The caves!” said Kalindel, clutching her sword. “It came from the caves.”

“We must hurry,” told Luthias.

But just as they began running, the ground shook and what felt like an explosion burst a section of the mountain wide open. Rock flew through the air, roars made teeth rattle as Legolas raised his eyes to see a gigantic troll flailing out of its lair. Axes, scimitars and spears poked it and blood spilled where it was injured. Every punch, boulder toss and stomp made the elves and woman stumble and fall, the troll completely oblivious of their presence in the middle of a fit of rage.

Legolas steadied himself atop a branch and aimed his arrow, ready to shoot the troll into its eye or throat if it got too close to his friends. Focusing, he spotted other forms moving. Smaller figures, orcs, were battling the huge creature despite its obvious superior force. They were trying to tie heavy chains around its legs and arms, clumsily missing their throws, being pulled around as they hung to their end or slapped aside. Legolas waited, watching astound as orcs died one by one. There were plenty more arriving, however.

“Legolas!” shouted Luthias. “Orcs coming from the south!”

He snapped back to see hairy, wrinkly, horrid creatures charging his friends. Pulling his arrows, Legolas shot down one orc coming at Ausan, and finished the orc that had locked blades with Luthias. The Captain then took on another by himself while Legolas sent an arrow into the top of a third orc’s head. Three more arrived and he heard a distinct hissing sound. On instinct, Legolas tilted his head sideways and saw a black shaft sifting through the air, right next to his temple. He shot at the archer but he had already moved.

Legolas jumped down from his tree and his next arrow killed an orc that was ready to stab Kalindel in the back. She was fencing with another and his foul, scarred face was right next to her own, growling madly. Legolas shot him point blank and Kalindel gasped, releasing her sword from the belly of the orc she had already killed. Smiling back at her, Legolas pulled out his daggers and spun them in his hands before turning towards the rest of the battle.

The archer was there, a tall, pale-skinned orc with fur and feathers on his shoulder armor. He switched to his sword and attacked at Luthias who’d just finished fighting with a spear-wielder.

Legolas didn’t have time to warn Luthias. The orc’s blade slashed across the elf and he fell backwards under the shock, protected by his chest plate of elven steel. Legolas was running and threw a knife at the orc, but he was faster than expected, diverting the dagger with his sword.

Legolas equipped his own long blade. The archer sneered at him and ran sideways to attack Ausan. The woman was ready and she swiftly avoided all of his strikes, leaping and twisting away to dodge the blade. Legolas intervened and attacked by his rear, though the blade was caught on a gauntlet so strong it stopped his assault. Then Luthias arrived and struck the orc to the knee, then to the head but he was still fighting with all of his might. He caught Ausan by an arm, took full support on one leg and spun around, sending the small woman as a flying shield to send Luthias and Legolas off balance.

But Legolas jumped over the panicked projectile and attacked, stabbing the orc in the back, cutting through his leather armor. The orc groaned and threw himself forward before countering with his sword. Legolas blocked and riposted, gaining on the weakened enemy, piercing into his vicious black eyes. They were full of anger and hate under thick eyebrows and a beaten nose. Black greasy hair was roughly braided and tied backwards. Legolas hadn’t seen that before on an orc.

Forcing him into a defensive stance, he held his blade up menacingly. Bolg had not been given this kind of mercy when he was in Lake Town and in Erebor. This one would be no different.

“Grishnag!”

They all turned to look at Ausan, panting with effort, as she had spoken loud and clear. She looked at the orc and he stared back at her, agape and dumbfounded.

“Ausan. You speak!” shouted the orc in a deep voice, breathing with difficulty as he continued in Ausan’s native tongue. “You shouldn’t be here.”

//

 


	9. Lost

She tried to make her voice heard again but with the thunder of a raging troll nearby, they couldn’t stay still. The colossal beast charged them, toppling trees on its path. Legolas felt a jolt of panic as his arrows were useless from downhill, crashing against the thick hide of the beast. Without waiting, he ran up to the troll, dodged an enormous hand and stuck one of his knives into its arm to climb up the shoulder. The troll began to swing around to catch him, but wasn’t limber enough to reach. Legolas balanced himself on the back of its neck and prepared his bow.

Suddenly, a black arrowhead appeared through the top of its skull and it began to fall forward. He saw the orc archer still holding his bow, looking straight at him. Jumping to the ground, Legolas steered clear as the troll collapsed, the black arrow stuck deep in its mouth, sending dirt and branches in every direction. Silence returned as they all looked at the dead beast.

The orc dragged his feet forward, ignoring the elves and Easterling, and used his sword to slash an ear off the dead troll’s head, then attached the gruesome trophy to his belt. He then proceeded to cut its fingers one by one.

Legolas had another arrow ready but his aim switched between the orc, and Ausan. They knew each other. Luthias himself showed doubt in his eyes as he held his guard up, protecting Kalindel. The healer stepped aside and addressed the wounded orc.

“How do you know Ausan?” she asked, sword held low but defensive. Her shoulders were down and relaxed, unfit to fight again.

The orc called Grishnag looked at the woman before answering. “The Daughter of Rhûn and her brothers are allowed passage on my lands. Not the elves, unless they want to become food for the trolls. Be glad I don’t hunt your kind.”

“All of your men are dead,” commented Luthias, his face tainted with combat fatigue and disgust. “Is this really worth it?”

He looked back at Luthias, then at each of them, before sheathing his weapon with his back held straight. His face twisted with pain before he muttered.

“I hunt alone, elf.”

He started walking slowly and stopped next to a dead orc before ripping something from him. A dagger that he took for himself. Legolas still held his bow ready to kill, but was undecided whether he should shoot down an unprepared target - a creature that had evidently decided to spare them. The orc looked back at him with scorn in his black eyes.

“What are you waiting for?” he spat. “A pat on the back for stabbing me? I killed this troll. And those were not my men.”

“Who are you?” asked Luthias, then looked confused at Ausan.

“I am Grishnag,” replied the orc. “And this is my territory.”

“You hunt trolls, then. But those orcs were trying to capture this one, and you were with them.”

Grishnag revealed pointy fangs as he grimaced with disgust.

“Only because they didn’t see me until you arrived.” He growled with impatience. “Elves venturing in these mountains will attract more orcs of Mordor. There won’t be any trolls to hunt if they’re all made slaves of Sauron.” He sighed heavily, using his bow to support himself up. “I wanted you gone before they would notice you.”

“So you did try to kill us,” deduced Legolas, raising his bow again.

Then Kalindel interfered, lowering his left arm. “Legolas, wait.”

Turning at the mention of his name, the orc furrowed his brow.

“You are Thranduil’s son.”

“We are only passing through,” Kalindel told him softly, pleading. “I am a healer... If you will help us through the mountains towards the east, I can provide remedies for your wounds.”

Grishnag sniffled skeptically before jutting his chin up towards the valley. “Take the path around. That’s the fastest way to the east.”

Defeated, Kalindel looked over at Legolas who raised an eyebrow at her, slowly shaking his head.

“There will be more orcs,” commented Luthias under his breath, taking steps closer to Legolas. “We should count our blessings and see this through. We could strain ourselves fighting before we could reach the Dunlands.”

“He is an orc,” Legolas reminded his elven friends. “Ausan conspired with the enemy. Does that not inspire you any distrust at all?”

Ausan started coughing then cleared her throat. She should not have shouted earlier. Grishnag slowly met with their private council and puffed a musky sigh in their direction.

“For hell’s sake, follow me. If I have to escort a bunch of pesky elves out of my lands to have peace, so be it.”

Still undecided, Legolas gave Luthias one last look of skepticism. The Captain nodded firmly before sheathing his blade.

“I trust Ausan did what she had to in order to survive this region. Let us leave now, and if there is any danger we know this orc is no match for us.”

Legolas reluctantly complied. Since leaving Dale with Ausan, he was watching his authority diminished by the day. It was now relinquished to a so-called orc hunter who lead them silently into an underground passage at the foot of the mountains. An old mine.

Had it not been for Ausan and her mysterious ally, or Luthias and his confidence, Legolas would have gotten rid of the menace that was Grishnag and taken his company towards the east, possibly to face more trolls and whatever else lied there. Instead, he suffered through a long hike in the dark, constricted space of the mine tunnels, smelling the orc’s heavy scented blood, and not being able to look up at the sky.

The underground lair was a cavernous hall of derelict scaffholding and ramps that used to carry workers up along the walls for excavations, with nooks and crannies in the walls where minerals were dug out. Grishnag had a fire running in the middle of it, and thankfully in this cave he had a stream that cascaded from a natural duct. The sound of the water echoed loudly, covering the sound of their voices.

“You may rest here,” growled Grishnag, “then we go under the mountains, towards the sea.”

“Is this where you live?” Kalindel asked, opening her satchel.

Crouching as he tended to the fire, he looked at her with his lips pinched.

“For now.”

With the little help of a single torch light, Legolas saw a pile of chests, folded fabrics, a rack of drying meat and even a large cot built out of branches and leather. Everything smelled ripe with mold and burnt flesh to his sensitive nostrils.

“You entrusted us to enter your dwelling,” Kalindel continued, then placing a vial of athelas oil next to her where she knelt. “As promised, here is some healing oil, and I will bandage your back if you will let me.”

All stood in unease as they contemplated the idea of an elf bringing assistance to an orc. Kalindel turned to noticed Legolas and he had a disapproving eyebrow raised at her. First, a dwarf had gotten the attention of Tauriel despite all of the hatred she had for their kind. And now, an orc?

“Try anything fishy, and I will strangle you with my dying breath,” Grishnag warned her.

“You would only dream of it in the afterlife,” retorted Legolas. He still carried his bow in hand.

“Fine,” the orc muttered. “The elf prince can watch.”

Kalindel then proceeded with caution to tend to the gashing wound on Grishnag’s back. Walking away, Luthias followed Ausan along the underground stream, and they went out of earshot for Legolas to be able to hear their whispers over the sound of the cascade. He kept his attention on the orc, balling his rough hands into fists as Kalindel removed his armor to expose the bare skin. Thick black blood was everywhere and her face crunched into a grimace as she discarded the chest piece. She held the back of her hand to her nose, took a shallow breath then looked at Legolas.

“I’m going to make stitches after I cleaned the wound.”

“Such foul stench,” Legolas commented testily.

She proceeded to clean the blood with a wet rag while Grishnag looked back at Legolas, eyes like a predator’s. He barely cringed as Kalindel operated on him, sustaining pain like no one Legolas had ever before seen under his knife.

“You are too kind,” he told Kalindel, taking a knee to hand her a piece of cloth with which to clean her black-stained hands. “If my father could see you right now...”

“Would he banish me?” she replied provocatively. “An elf shouldn’t become anything but mortal enemies with the orc kind.”

“This changes nothing,” Grishnag answered. “A good elf doesn’t belong here. Go back to playing your puny harps on your boats. Swinging from your trees.”

Legolas twitched his face in anger and hate, a hand instinctively reaching for one of his daggers but stopped as Kalindel glanced at him threateningly. She then proceeded to slap the back of Grishnag’s head.

“Watch your mouth, orc. My mother sailed on her own to Valinor after my father was killed at the gates of Mordor. She also happened to play the harp.”

The fearsome face morphed to a sort of apologetic frown and he exchanged a look with Legolas. He stood, feeling sorry that Kalindel had to tell of her family to a rude and disgusting being.

“What does a beast like him know about having parents?” he spat, repressing his voice from getting too loud.

“My ancestors,” Grishnag slowly grumbled. “They were elves, like you. Pretty faces and all. Sauron captured and tortured them for thousands of years. Some didn’t survive, but my mother did. She was a fighter. Even after she turned into an orc, forced to breed with vile monsters, she remembered who she was.”

Kalindel pinched her lips with sadness. The wound was now sewn and she patched it up with bandages, held together with fabric that she found in his lair.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” she said. “Do you know who was your father?”

“She killed him,” Grishnag smirked as he answered. “She told me he was a general in Sauron’s army. One night, they returned from raiding a village, and she slit his throat, claiming his title. Of course, when she had to give birth to me she escaped to this hiding place.” He paused to study their reactions. “I am no soldier in your wars, but I will fight to protect my home.”

The stare Legolas gave on Grishnag turned into a silent stand off as he pondered his next decision.

“You cannot defeat an entire army on your own. Soon, more orcs will find this place. Where will you go then?”

“Then,” Grishnag replied as he rose, “I will die trying.”

There was nothing for a renegade orc out there. Legolas met with Kalindel’s empathetic gaze and he gave a nod.

“Let’s not overstay our welcome,” he said. “You mentioned a passage towards Rhûn.”

“I will tell you how to reach the other side of the mountain,” told Grishnag, “as my gratitude to the she-elf who healed me.”

Pressingly searching for the rest of the party, Legolas focus on his hearing to filter out the noise of the waterfall. Hoping to overhear a conversation, he stumbled upon Luthias and Ausan, sitting together on the other side of the water bank, speaking with their hands as they gestured words none could hear. Legolas interrupted them by clearing his throat. Ausan was first to see him and got back on her feet, while Luthias stared at her with surprise.

“Time to go,” Legolas commanded. “Luthias.”

He waited next to the exit, Ausan passed by him and her eyes never broke contact with his, defiantly silent still. When Luthias arrived, carrying his weight with effort after having sat for long, he gave Legolas an apologetic bow of the head.

“Forgive me. I have lost track of time.”

Legolas showed no warmth in his gaze, made black in the darkness when his pupils were wide. The Captain had spent a moment with the woman again, but in relative safety and without disturbing the peace.

“Then you are sufficiently rested,” he finally said to him. “Find Kalindel if you have wounds to tend to.”

Grishnag was a fierce fighter, after all, for an untrained warrior wandering on his own in the mountains. But even the strongest of orcs couldn’t last a minute against four combatants.

He was in his campsite with Ausan next to him, talking in a breathy, quiet voice.

“When I find my father,” she spoke in Easterling dialect, “we will repay our gratitude.”

“There is no need for that,” Grishnag replied in kind.

“Have you seen anything there?”

His eyes were still wary of the elves, and he emitted a low growl before turning towards Ausan.

“The citadel is heavily guarded. The army of Rhûn keeps growing, and your father hasn’t been moved in days.”

She tried to speak again but stopped herself, lips parted, before acquiescing at Grishnag.

“Thank you. That’s useful.” After pressing a hand on his shoulder, Ausan took leave of him and joined the elves on their way to the passage. “I’m ready.”

“Do you know the way through?” Legolas asked her, doing his best at emulating her language.

“She does,” Luthias said in her stead. “We spoke about it before you arrived.”

As they walked along the dark paths, Ausan and Luthias leading the way carrying a torch, Legolas followed Kalindel who turned to him with a doubtful expression on her face.

“What was it that Ausan said? I’m afraid my grasp of the local tongue is failing me.”

Legolas addressed her a reassuring smile as he climbed down the unsteady steps deeper into the mountain.

“Apparently, Grishnag has been watching over the lands of Rhûn and her father.”

“I see,” Kalindel thoughtfully replied. “She seems to know the way through.”

The woman did not appear to slow or hesitate, leading the march decisively.

“It seems so,” Legolas confirmed. “Coming through here might have been planned from the start, but I don’t yet see how.”

“It was a lucky turn of event,” interjected Luthias. “There was no plan to have us confront trolls and orc armies.”

“Well,” Kalindel said, “these lands are treacherous and full of death. We made it this far, haven’t we?”

“So far,” Legolas answered.

“Do not let doubt plague your mind, Legolas.” Luthias had a look over his shoulder, still walking. “Whatever comes to us, we will use caution.”

Kalindel looked back at Legolas, but her confidence did not match that of the Captain, her eyebrows were lowered and her paleness looked sickly in the dim light. Legolas wondered if she had had enough rest, or if she had nourished herself at all in the past days.

The underground path became narrower and more dangerous, at turns barely an edge along a cliff, a mere step from the pits of infinite void. The total darkness made Legolas feel dizzy. Flattening his back against the wall of stone and rock, he held on to Kalindel’s arm for either safety or to comfort the elven healer. Her own fear was palpable. She could barely keep her eyes open. Pebbles broke off the edge under their step and tumbled down into the blackness.

“Do not look down,” he told her. “Keep going, we’re almost there.”

He thought of the bright light of the sun, the warmth of spring as it shone over the waterfalls. He imagined all of that to soothe himself, and somehow the tension in Kalindel’s muscles seemed to dissipate. She caught his hand and held him tightly, strafing towards the safety of the end of the path. Luthias and Ausan were already advancing into the next tunnel that Kalindel was catching her breath, Legolas pressing the pace, still holding her hand encouragingly. She was shaking but her face showed relief, and she kept walking.

“How much longer?” did she ask to anyone who would respond.

Ausan said something in the distance ahead, and Luthias translated.

“We’re over halfway there.”

Kalindel sighed and looked down, clutching at her belt and touching the walls now and then, as if to keep her balance.

“We must continue,” added Luthias. “We’ll soon cross another room.”

“Hurry,” Ausan said as well, looking at the healer.

Nodding in silence, Kalindel picked up the pace, supported by Legolas who touched her shoulder.

The room they mentioned was a wide hall of strange walls and roofs. It didn’t take long for Legolas and Luthias to have their weapons drawn, fighting instincts sprung at the ready. Spider webs. They covered every surface and blocked every exit.

“Do not walk into the webs,” Luthias murmured. “Legolas?”

He already had an arrow out, looking around to spot any moving shape. Ausan began cutting at the thicker webs, but the softer, floating strands stuck to her hair and face. Luthias was close behind and his long sword frayed a wide passage for them. Then the hissing started.

“Stay together!” Luthias called.

The smaller ones arrived first, their eight legs climbing down their white strands as they clicked their fangs with anticipation. Legolas aimed and shot three arrows, killed the first wave of young spiders until more came out from hiding. He saw Kalindel clutching her sword, moving nervously after Luthias, sometimes so close she almost got hit by his blade. Legolas shot down two more spiders, his shafts landing between their multiple eyes.

Another large one landed abruptly in front of Ausan. But the Easterling woman fearlessly charged the monster, stabbing it dead with two hits then climbed over it to keep slashing at the webs that closed the way out. Legolas turned around and pulled more arrows at the spiders that followed them, less rapidly than the first, upon seeing that their chances for survival were slim.

“Legolas!” he heard Kalindel say in his back. “Your arrows...”

Perplexed and looking back, Legolas met her worried gaze and nodded. He had only a handful left. But then a cry startled him. Kalindel had fallen, ankle caught in a knot of webs and clawed legs were upon her. Luthias turned around in the blink of an eye and cut the spider in two with his long sword, liberating Kalindel from the trap as he pulled her with the strength of one arm.

The hissing and clicking of more spiders approached after hearing her cry. They were swarming from every side of the room.

“We must run,” Ausan said, still working her way through webs.

And Luthias was too busy stepping over hatchlings, and Legolas had switched to his daggers, his arrows now depleted.

Kalindel search for something in her satchel, holding her sword with her left hand, and held up a tiny object. She began chanting a phrase in old Elvish. Legolas slashed the front legs of an adult spider, it screeched at him with rage but more came at him. They screamed as well at the sight of a flash of bright light.

Every swarming spider suddenly halted and retreated in terror at the blinding beam that came out of Kalindel’s hand. Legolas himself could not see what the object was, but in his life had only witnessed few artifacts that could deliver such power.

Taking advantage of the spiders’ vulnerability, they fled the webbed area. Ausan cursed in her native language, pulling sticky webs from her sword as they went up a climb inside another tunnel. Kalindel’s light was still shining and it was easy to see how small and narrow the passage was. Legolas needed to lower his head and hold his bow in hand to avoid getting caught in the ceiling. Luthias and the two females were the appropriate height.

“We’re clear of them now,” he informed them, hearing no sign of the spiders behind him. “Let us find a place to rest.”

Luthias and Ausan looked back at him but pressed on, almost going faster. On the other hand, Kalindel looked like she was out of breath.

“Almost there,” said Ausan.

He wanted nothing more but to be done with enclosed, narrow spaces. Legolas found that his head was spinning if he stopped moving, and his heart wouldn’t slow down if he kept thinking about the mountains over his head, or the endless trek in the darkness and no sky on the horizon. Seeing the resolve in Ausan’s behavior, and the dedicated Luthias who followed, gave him courage. When he took Kalindel’s hand again he steeled himself with a sense of purpose, she needed him more than he needed to feel better.

“More dark tunnels,” Legolas spoke under his breath, holding the hand that was free. “But your light shines our way.”

Kalindel returned him an uncertain gaze in the pale blue shine of her magical vial. Shadows danced around them as they progressed, climbing the stairs that took them to the surface.

The light faded when they saw the last stretch of underground tunnel. Daylight framed a wooden hatch door. Kalindel slowed and Legolas stopped to wrap an arm around her back.

“We must leave this place!” he told her, insisting on having her walk the last paces towards the exit. “You can do it, Kalindel.”

But her legs refused to obey and she tumbled forward, hanging awkwardly from his arm.

“No!” she protested, hands shaking and sweating. “He will see me. I can’t go outside, not here.”

Legolas felt an icy grasp circle his heart as he stared upon the frightened healer. Luthias and Ausan stood, panting and impatient to go on, unable to understand what Kalindel was saying.

“Who are you talking about?” Luthias asked her.

Tears fell from Kalindel’s shut eyelids and she took a deep breath before looking at Ausan. The Easterling parted her lips and looked at Luthias.

“She speaks of Khamûl, the one who rules over my lands and tortures my father.”

Still clutching the now ordinary vial, Kalindel seemed to regain her calm, standing on her own with her back to the blackness of the underground depths. Legolas touched her shoulder, if only to have her come closer to the faint light of day.

“We may find another way,” he attempted, “perhaps from a different side of the mountain.”

“Khamûl has not been seen in centuries,” Luthias thought out loud. “How do you know that he is here?”

“She knows,” Legolas replied to him, facing his friend close enough to have him stop his questioning. “We’ll get to the explanations another time. For now, we must find a way to reach Ausan’s father, undetected.”

“You will,” Kalindel earnestly said. “Only without me. I’m afraid we must part ways here.”

Legolas began to protest. “Kalindel, what will you do?”

She reached into her satchel and gave him a handful of remedies. “Have faith... We will meet again, Legolas. Now, go.”

Her stature seemed taller and her pale skin radiated with the light that came from the door to the outside. Speechless, Legolas had to be pulled away by Luthias to be torn from the dark tunnels of the mountain.

The eastern sun blazed and filled him with warmth, almost too abruptly, and his eyes took a moment to adjust to the new brightness. The sea lied below, glistening with its thousands of shiny ripples. Luthias and Ausan paused for a moment, enchanted at the sight, yet Legolas found none of the wonder they seemed to experience.

“We abandoned her,” he bitterly whispered to himself.

“No,” corrected Luthias, pressing a hand upon his shoulder. “If a nazgûl truly spies on her, then she is protecting us. It was her wish.”

Breathing in the salty air of Rhûn, Legolas relinquished his doubts with a sigh, once again feeling helpless. They were so close to enemy territory, but even with one healer down, and an empty quiver, they could still fight. Luthias waited for him to nod and follow them down the path towards the closest valley. Turning back was no longer an option. Legolas nodded sharply, eyes squinting with discomfort.

“Let’s go.”


End file.
